77? e  QuiBeron 


Toucfi  ~  ^ 


Townsend  Brad 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Commodore  Byron  McCandless 


THE  QUIBERON  TOUCH 


Quiberon  Touch 

A   Romance   of  the   I).  n   "The 

Great  Lord  Hawke  '  the  Sea 


Th 


CYRUS  TOW  D   BRADY 

"  Rur    Love    of  (  modore    J 

jnes,"  «'  the 


I 


•r  day 
:!ic  West; 
He  hearri  "i  Quiberon  Bay, 

.  line  abreast. 
Dov  •  -,ight 

ght, 
jlare 

— N> 


forfc 

D.  AP)  VND  COMPANY 

1901 


The  betrothal  of  "  Little   France. 

(See  page  255. 


A    Romance   of  the   Days    when    "  The 
Great  Lord  Hawke  "  was  King  of  the  Sea 


By 
CYRUS  TOWNSEND   BRADY 

Author  of 

"  For    Love    of  Country,"    "  Commodore    Paul 

Jones,"  "  Reuben  James,"  "  For  the 

Freedom  of  the  Sea,"  etc, 

r 


"  'Twas  long  past  noon  of  a  wild  November  day 

When  Hawke  came  swooping  from  the  West} 
He  heard  the  breakers  thundering  in  Quiberon  Bay, 

But  he  flew  the  flag  for  battle,  line  abreast. 
Down  upon  the  quicksands  roaring  out  of  sight 
Fiercely  beat  the  storm-wind,  darkly  fell  the  night, 
But  they  took  the  foe  for  pilot  and  the  cannon's  glare 

for  light 
When  Hawke  came  swooping  from  the  West." 

— NEWBOLT. 


forfe 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 

1901 


COPYRIGHT,  1901, 
BY  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved. 


DEDICATED    TO    MY    MOTHER, 

HARRIET   CORA   TOWNSEND    BRADY. 

In  breakers  crashing  on  the  shore, 
In  tempest's  shriek,  or  cannon's  roar, 
In  cradle  song,  or  cry  of  bird, 
In  lovers'  voices  softly  heard, 
In  mighty  ships  upon  the  wave, 
In  glorious  deed  done  by  the  brave, 
In  all  things  beautiful  and  dear, 
Told  as  I've  tried  to  tell  them  here, 
May  some  voice — man,  or  maid,  or  sea — 
Fail  not  to  speak  a  word  of  me  ! 


957503 


CONTENTS 


BOOK    I 
AN  IDYL   OF  BRITTANY 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.      IN   THE   FOG   OFF    USHANT I 

II.      THE   SMASHING   OF   THE   BRIG 9 

III.    ENEMIES  ARE  FRIENDS 18 

IV.   THE  GARDEN  AND  THE  ROSE 2$ 

V.    THE  CRADLE  SONG -34 

VI.      EXIT   DOLL — ENTER   KNIGHT 42 

VII.      IN   THE   OLD   WATCH-TOWER 53 

VIII.      THE   END   OF  THE  PLAY 63 

BOOK   II 

FOR    THE  EMPIRE  OF  THE   WEST 

IX.    THE  GENERAL'S  HEART 77 

X.      THE   BEGINNING   OF   THE   HAZARD           ....  87 

XI.      ON   THE   ROOF   OF   THE   WORLD 99 

BOOK   III 

THE  HONOUR   OF  DE    VITRE 

XII.      THE   SAILOR   AND   THE   MOB Ill 

XIII.  GRAFTON  COMES  BACK  TO  THE  ROSE  .        .        .        .122 

XIV.  FIGHT,  RETREAT,  OR  SURRENDER        ....  135 
XV.    GRAFTON  TO  THE  RESCUE 140 

XVI.      "  THOU   SHALT  NOT  COVET " IJO 

vii 


The   guiberon  Touch 

BOOK    IV 
LOVE   WILL  HAVE  ITS   WAY 

CHAPTER 

XVII.    RECOGNITION 

XVIII.    FALLS  THE  FLAG  OF  FRANCE     . 

XIX.      THE  PLAY,   THE  STAKE,   AND   THE   PLAYERS 

XX.    ANNE  DE  ROHAN  SAYS — FAREWELL  ! . 


PACK 
158 
I76 

188 
2OI 


XXI. 

XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 


XXVIII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXV. 


XXXVI. 

XXXVII. 

XXXVIII. 


BOOK   V 
WHAT  HAPPENED  IN  THE   TOWER 

WET  SHEETS  AND  FLOWING  SEAS       .        .        .213 

THE  BOAT  IN  THE  PASS 223 

LIKE  A  BIRD  IN  THE  AIR 235 

NUMBERED — WEIGHED — DIVIDED        .        .        .  246 

THREE  LOVERS  COME  TO  THE  TOWER        .        .  261 

DE  VlTRE  PAYS  FOR  HIS  LIFE  AND  HONOUR     .  274 

GRAFTON  WINS  AND  LOSES         -»  284 

BOOK   VI 
"  THE  GREAT  LORD  HAWKE" 

THE  ADMIRAL  GETS  THE  NEWS  ....  2g8 

CONFLANS  IS  OUT 311 

THE  ALARM  IN  THE  MORNING    ....  323 

THE  FRENCH  WAIT — BREAK — FLY      .        .        .  333 

A  STERN  CHASE  ON  A  LEE-SHORE       .        .        .  344 
THE  BATTLE  IN  THE  STORM        .        .        .      ,.356 

THE  SINISTER  EFFACEMENT  OF  A  SHIP      .        .  365 

THE  PROTECTOR  OF  ENGLAND    .        .        .        .  377 

BOOK    VII 
"OUT  OF   THE  DEEP" 

WHAT  WAR  MEANT  IN  THAT  DAY  ON  THE  SEA  384 

THE  WOMAN  BEREFT  ......  387 

FROM  DEATH  UNTO  LIFE 396 

L'ENVOI — FAREWELL  !         ..'...  403 


AFTERWORD  . 


407 


Vlll 


THE   QUIBERON   TOUCH 


BOOK   I 

AN  IDYL   OF  BRITTANY 


CHAPTER  I 

IN    THE    FOG    OFF    USHANT 

FOR  two  days  H.  B.  M.  brig-of-war  Boxer  had 
been  groping  about  in  a  thick  fog  off  the  island  of 
Ushant  on  the  Breton  littoral.  At  least,  in  de 
fault  of  astronomical  observation,  that  is  where 
Lieutenant  Philip  Grafton,  her  commander,  im 
agined  his  ship  to  be.  The  Boxer  was  bound  in 
for  Portsmouth,  England,  with  despatches  from 
Admiral  Boscawen,  then  commanding  at  Gibral 
tar.  She  had  made  a  quick  passage  from  the 
Straits  and  had  met  with  no  bad  luck  or  misfor 
tune  until  she  had  run  into  the  fog  near  Belle  Isle, 
since  which  time  she  had  been  slowly  working  her 
way  northward,  as  the  fitful  breezes  and  mist- 
hidden  seas  permitted.  The  despatches  she  bore 
were  of  grave  importance,  and  haste  in  their  de 
livery  had  been  enjoined  upon  the  young  com 
mander.  Therefore,  he  chafed  under  the  vexatious 
delays  with  all  the  impatience  of  a  sailor  to  whose 
progress  fogs  and  calms  are  obstacles  well-nigh  in 
surmountable  by  his  sea-philosophy. 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

To  his  impatience  was  added  a  vivid  conscious 
ness  of  probable  and  imminent  danger,  for  the 
Boxer  was  drifting  about  within  easy  striking  dis 
tance  of  the  great  French  naval  depot  of  Brest, 
which  was  filled  with  the  capital  ships  and  cruisers 
of  the  enemy;  and  the  narrow  seas,  in  the  ab 
sence  of  any  English  fleet  nearer  than  Gibraltar, 
swarmed  with  men-of-war  coming  and  going.  At 
that  time  no  English  blockade  had  been  estab 
lished  on  the  French  seaboard,  and  the  ships  of  the 
"  Well  Beloved  "  King  ran  in  and  out  of  Brest 
at  their  pleasure. 

So  long  as  the  fog  held,  the  English  brig  was 
safe  from  observation  and  the  danger  of  capture 
by  a  ship  of  superior  force  was  minimized;  it 
amounted  to  almost  nothing  in  fact.  But  when 
the  fog  lifted — unless  it  were  accompanied  by  a 
good  breeze,  which  would  scarcely  be  likely  at 
that  season  of  the  year — the  Boxer  would  be  at 
the  mercy  of  anything  of  sufficient  size  that  hap 
pened  along.  Though  young  in  the  service,  Lieu 
tenant  Grafton  had  earned  a  well-deserved  reputa 
tion  for  daring  and  skill,  and  gladly  would  he 
have  welcomed  an  opportunity  for  a  brush  with  a 
cruiser  of  a  force  equal  to,  or  even  somewhat 
greater  than,  his  own.  English  ships  then  were 
accustomed  to  giving  odds;  indeed,  unless  there 
was  some  preponderance  in  force  in  favour  of  the 
French,  they  took  but  little  credit  for  a  victory. 
But  a  vessel  which  would  at  all  match  his  own  was 
not  likely  to  appear. 

Grafton  was   one   of  the  few   American   pro- 


In  the  Fog  off  Ushant 

vincials  in  the  Royal  Naval  Service.  His  father 
had  been  in  command  of  one  of  the  armed  vessels 
of  the  squadron  of  the  Colony  of  Massachusetts 
which  had  done  such  remarkably  good  work  in 
Pepperell's  successful  campaign  against  Louis- 
burg  in  1745.  As  a  reward  for  his  services  on  that 
occasion — services  by  no  means  inconsiderable — 
stout  old  John  Grafton  had  been  given  a  com 
mission  in  the  king's  navy,  and  was  now  a 
rear  -  admiral,  retired,  living  in  the  enjoyment 
of  his  honours  in  his  ancestral  home  in  Massa 
chusetts.  His  son,  who  had  followed  his  father's 
profession,  also  enjoyed  the  royal  favour  and  had 
risen  rapidly  through  the  various  grades  of  the 
naval  service  to  the  rank  of  lieutenant.  He  had, 
in  his  brief  career,  given  evidence  of  superior 
ability,  and  it  was  thought  with  his  influence 
that  he  would  eventually  obtain  high  rank  in  the 
service. 

On  the  morning  of  the  3d  of  July,  1754,  the 
young  captain  was  restlessly  pacing  the  weather 
side  of  the  small  quarter-deck  of  his  brig  in  close 
consultation  with  his  first  lieutenant,  a  kindred 
spirit,  named  Stanhope. 

"Dash  me,  John!"  he  exclaimed  impatiently, 
dropping  the  quarter-deck  for  the  nonce,  as  they 
were  out  of  hearing  of  everybody  except  an  old 
seaman  at  the  wheel,  who  had  sailed  with  Graf- 
ton's  father  from  boyhood  and  had,  naturally,  at 
tached  himself  to  the  fortunes  of  the  son.  "  Dash 
me,  but  this  is  vexing!  Here  we  lie  tossing  about 
like  an  empty  bottle  in  these  beastly  swells  and 

3 


The   guiberon  Touch 

not  a  thing  to  tell  us  where  we  are  or  where  we 
are  drifting!  " 

"  True,  Captain  Grafton,"  answered  the  lieu 
tenant,  giving  his  superior  his  courtesy  title,  "  the 
fog's  so  thick  you  could  almost  cut  it.  I  can't 
even  see  the  heel  of  the  bowsprit  for'ard.  Tis 
most  annoying." 

"  Ay,  man,  but  while  the  weather  holds  it 
gives  us  this  one  advantage:  if  we  can't  see,  we 
can't  be  seen,  either.  So  long  as  there  is  no  wind 
I  prefer  this  mist-blanket,  for  if  the  fog  lifts  and 
the  wind  doesn't  come,  we're  pretty  sure  to  fall 
foul  of  one  of  those  Brest  cruisers,  which  would  be 
too  large  for  our  little  hooker.  Damme,  Stan 
hope,  I  wish  we  had  a  tidy  frigate  under  us!  I'd 
like  nothing  better  than  to  swing  into  old  Ports 
mouth  with  a  prize  in  tow.  That'd  look  well  in 
the  despatches,  old  boy,  and  we'd  both  get  a  step. 
But,  gad,  this  little  tub  of  ours  isa't  a  match  for 
anything  that  we  are  likely  to  run  across.  The 
French  have  become  so  wary  they  don't  seem  to 
send  out  any  more  small  cruisers." 

"  The  fact  is,"  answered  Stanhope,  "  they 
haven't  any  more  to  send.  Our  ships  have  been 
gobbling  them  up  so,  and " 

"  Hark!  what's  that?"  cried  Grafton,  stopping 
short  and  catching  his  subordinate  by  the  arm. 
"There!"  pointing  aft,  "didn't  you  hear  it?  A 
ship's  bell!" 

As  he  spoke  the  sound  of  a  bell  struck,  in 
couplets,  four  times,  came  faintly  toward  them 
through  the  gray  mist-laden  air  of  the  morning. 

4 


In  the  Fog  off  Ushant 

"  Ay,  surely,  I  heard  it,"  answered  Stanhope, 
turning  about,  lifting  his  hand  to  his  ear  as  he 
spoke,  and  concentrating  his  attention  in  the  di 
rection  of  the  sound. 

"  Where  do  you  make  it  to  come  from?  " 

"  Why,  about  there,  dead  astern,  I  should  say, 
sir,"  replied  the  other,  pointing  aft. 

"  Right  O,  Mr.  Stanhope.  Pass  the  word 
quietly  forward  for  the  men  to  make  no  noise," 
said  the  captain,  turning  to  the  midshipman  on 
watch.  "  It's  ten  chances  to  one  yon's  a  French 
ship." 

Many  of  the  crew  had  heard  the  sound  of  the 
bell,  and  they  stood  listening  with  eager  intent- 
ness  in  various  attitudes  about  the  deck.  In 
obedience  to  their  captain's  direction,  all  of  them 
remained  still  and  quiet,  waiting  his  further  or 
ders.  Presently  a  little  puff  of  air  fanned  the 
cheek  of  the  watchful  commander. 

"  The  breeze  is  coming,  I  trust,"  he  said  to 
Stanhope.  "  See!  The  fog  thins  yonder!  'Tis 
lightening  surely!  Get  the  men  to  their  quarters 
without  the  drum,  Mr.  Stanhope;  cast  loose  the 
batteries  and  load  with  a  round  shot  and  a  stand 
of  grape.  Bear  a  hand!  Lively,  but  be  quiet  with 
it  all!  We  may  have  need  to  show  our  teeth  in  a 
moment.  Ay,  it  clears!  " 

In  a  moment,  as  the  lieutenant  ran  forward 
giving  the  order,  the  deck  of  the  brig  was  filled 
with  silent  confusion.  The  men  sprang  like  big 
cats  to  their  stations.  The  little  guns  of  the  ves 
sel  were  soon  cast  loose  and  provided,  and,  having 

5 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

been  double-shotted,  were  run  out  again  and  a 
good  turn  taken  with  the  side-tackles  to  hold 
them.  The  wind  was  coming  stronger  now,  but 
still  in  fitful  puffs,  from  the  southwest.  Singu 
larly  enough,  the  fog  seemed  to  be  rising  against 
the  wind. 

Presently,  by  the  watchful  young  command 
er's  direction,  the  sail-trimmers  braced  about  the 
yards  to  take  advantage  of  the  rising  breeze,  and 
the  Boxer  began  slowly  to  forge  through  the 
water.  It  was  the  first  time  in  several  days  that 
she  had  enjoyed  good  steerage  way,  and  all  hands 
watched  her  travel  with  feelings  of  great  relief. 
Before  she  had  gathered  much  way,  however,  they 
heard  again  the  sound  which  had  awakened  them 
to  action.  Five  bells  this  time  came  floating  up 
from  the  southward  as  before.  On  this  occasion 
the  sound  was  clearer  and  more  distinct,  showing 
that  the  approaching  vessel  had  drawn  nearer. 
The  deep  quality  of  the  tones  denoted  that  the 
bell  was  a  large  one. 

"  By  gad,  Stanhope,  that  bell  doesn't  swing 
on  anything  under  a  heavy  frigate,"  said  Grafton; 
"  we're  in  for  it  this  time  unless  we  can  make 
some  distance  with  this  brisking  breeze  while  the 
fog  holds.  What's  she  making?  " 

"About  two  knots,  I  think,  sir,"  answered 
Stanhope,  looking  over  the  side  at  the  sluggish 
water  slowly  drawing  past ;  "  maybe  two  and  a 
half,  no  more." 

"  'Tis  a  cursed  slow  boat;  but  British  ships  are 
not  built  for  running,  they  leave  that  for  t'other 

6 


In  the  Fog  off  Ushant 

fellows.  I  wish  now  the  fog  would  hold  a  little 
longer.  Keep  your  weather  eye  lifting  there, 
Jabez,"  continued  Grafton,  turning  to  old  Slocum, 
who  still  stood  at  the  wheel;  "  don't  lose  a  bit 
of  it." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir!  "  replied  the  old  Yankee,  shift 
ing  his  quid  as  he  gave  a  careful  squint  at  the 
top-sails,  which  the  wind  was  scarcely  strong 
enough  to  fill.  "  I  won't  lose  none  o't,  yer  hon 
our." 

For  a  few  anxious  moments  the  brig  held  on. 
Presently,  in  spite  of  their  desires,  the  two  officers 
perceived  that  the  fog  was  indeed  going.  How 
ever,  there  was  nothing  to  be  done.  It  was  still 
too  thick  to  see  anything  distinctly,  so  they  held 
on  steadily.  At  eleven  o'clock,  from  the  other 
ship,  they  heard  again  the  sound  of  the  bell,  which 
now  rang  six  times.  She,  too,  had  been  feeling 
the  wind,  and  was  evidently  edging  along  in  their 
wake,  which  was  pure  chance,  for  they  had  given 
her  no  sign  of  their  presence. 

"Confound  the  luck!"  said  Grafton;  "what 
ever  she  is,  she's  right  after  us.  By  the  sound,  I 
should  say  we  haven't  gained  a  fathom!" 

"  Lost,  rather,"  suggested  Stanhope.  "  This 
brig's  no  goer  at  all  in  this  sort  of  breeze,  and  it's 
so  fitful  no  one  can  tell " 

"  By  heaven,  the  wind  has  shifted  again! 
We're  aback!  Shift  the  helm  there!  All  hands  to 
the  lee  braces!"  cried  Grafton,  as  the  wind  sud 
denly  swung  about  and  took  the  ship  aback. 

Fortunately  it  was  not  blowing  strong  enough 
7 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

to  do  any  damage,  although  the  wind  was  increas 
ing  in  force  with  every  moment.  But  before  the 
Boxer  paid  off,  the  fog  suddenly  lifted.  It  was 
brushed  away  from  them  as  if  it  had  been  swept 
aside  by  a  gigantic  hand.  The  gray  mist  in  front 
of  them  gave  place  to  radiant  golden  light.  The 
tossing  white-capped  waves,  instead  of  showing 
the  sickly  leaden  colour  of  the  past  few  days,  were 
thrown  into  brilliant  blue  by  the  irradiating  sun. 
The  brightness  was  almost  dazzling.  There  did 
not  seem  to  be  a  single  cloud  above  them. 

"  Land  ho!  "  shouted  one  of  the  men  on  the 
forecastle,  as  the  mist  disappeared. 

There  before  them,  and  scarcely  a  mile  away, 
rose  the  grim  cliffs  of  the  forbidding  island  of 
Ushant.  They  could  see  the  breakers  crashing 
and  churning  in  sheets  of  foam  about  its  feet. 

"All  hands  to  the  lee  braces!"  cried  Grafton 
promptly.  "  Starboard  your  helm!  Flow  the  head- 
sheets,  there!  Haul  over  that  spanker-sheet.  We 
must  get  away  from  that,  Stanhope!  " 

"  Sail  ho!  "  cried  one  of  the  after-guard  at  the 
same  instant,  as  the  handy  little  brig  spun  around 
on  her  heel  and  thrust  her  blunt  nose  up  toward 
the  wind  on  the  port  tack. 

There,  scarcely  two  cables'  length  away  from 
them,  they  saw  the  bows  of  an  immense  ship, 
ghostlike,  come  shoving  through  the  fog,  which 
still  enshrouded  that  quarter  of  the  sea. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    SMASHING    OF    THE    BRIG 

"  'Tis  a  ship  of  the  line!  "  shouted  Stanhope, 
who  immediately  caught  sight  of  it. 

Grafton  slewed  himself  about  on  his  heel  and 
rapidly  took  in  the  situation. 

"And  a  Frenchman,  by  heaven!"  he  roared. 
"  No  English  ship  has  bows  like  that!  Break  out 
the  stuns'ls,  Mr.  Stanhope,  we  may  need  them 
presently/' 

At  the  same  instant  they  were  seen  from  the 
ship  of  the  line. 

"Ship  ahoy!  What  ship  is  that?"  came  up 
the  wind  from  the  French  vessel. 

"  We'll  soon  show  you,"  said  Grafton,  under 
his  breath.  "  Man  the  port  battery,  lads!  Jump 
lively!  We  must  escape  if  we  can!  " 

The  two  ships  were  sailing  at  right  angles  to 
each  other  now,  one  going  free  and  the  other  just 
coming  by  the  wind  on  the  port  tack.  They  were 
so  near  each  other  that  the  men  clustered  forward 
on  the  top-gallant  forecastle  of  the  French  ship 
could  easily  be  made  out.  The  fog  was  going  as  if 
by  magic. 

A  noble  picture  the  huge  liner  made,  under  her 

2  9 


The  guiberon  Touch 

great  top-sails,  with  her  courses  in  the  brails  and  her 
light  sails  hanging  by  the  clew-lines.  They  had 
suspected  nothing  on  her  and  were  entirely  unpre 
pared  for  what  followed.  All  was  ready  on  the 
Boxer  now,  and  she  was  ranging  ahead. 

"  Stand  by!  "  roared  Grafton,  as  they  passed 
squarely  across  the  Frenchman's  bow.  "  Fire!  " 

The  eight  six-pounders  on  the  port  side  of  the 
brig  saluted  the  liner  with  an  impudent  broadside. 

"  Well  done,  my  boys!  Now  then,  hard  up  with 
the  helm! "  shouted  Grafton.  "  Hands  by  the 
weather  braces!  Flow  the  spanker-sheets!  Lively, 
lads!" 

Before  the  men  on  the  ship  of  the  line  had  recov 
ered  from  the  astonishment  inspired  by  Grafton's 
audacity,  the  Boxer  swung  around  and  ran  off  free, 
again  heading  toward  Ushant.  For  a  few  moments 
there  was  no  little  confusion  on  the  French  ship. 
Her  jib-stay  had  been  cut,  the  sail  unsupported  was 
dragging  in  the  water.  Rents  appeared  in  the  fore 
sail,  and  parted  shrouds  here  and  there  showed  that 
the  well-aimed  discharge  had  done  good  service, 
although  it  had  no  effect  on  the  heavy  scantling 
and  timbers  of  the  liner.  But  no  material  damage, 
of  course,  had  been  or  could  be  effected  by  the  six- 
pound  guns  of  a  little  three-hundred-ton  brig 
against  a  French  seventy-four.  Still,  the  confusion 
consequent  upon  her  intrepid  attack  enabled  the 
brig  to  gain  a  considerable  lead.  It  was  necessary 
for  him  to  get  some  distance  away  from  his  pur 
suer  before  Grafton  could  come  by  the  wind  again, 
in  order  to  weather  the  western  point  of  Ushant; 

10 


The  Smashing  of  the  Brig 

which,  to  anticipate,  he  presently  succeeded  in 
doing. 

In  a  short  time,  however — painfully  short  for 
the  pursued — the  liner,  emulating  the  movements 
of  the  English  cruiser,  got  the  wind  on  her  quarter 
and  commenced  bowling  along  after  the  brig. 
Her  nimble  crew  had  set  sail  after  sail  on  her  lofty 
spars,  and  she  swept  along  in  the  bright  sunny  morn 
ing  a  towering  and  splendid  picture  of  sea  power 
and  sea  beauty.  She  had  been  wonderfully  well 
handled  for  a  Frenchman,  and  the  evolutions  were 
as  smartly  done  as  they  could  have  been  by  a  crack 
English  crew — then  the  best  sailors  in  the  world. 
And  as  the  English  brig,  having  run  free  as  long  as 
she  dared,  at  last  bore  up,  her  gigantic  pursuer 
promptly  did  the  same. 

"  They  may  talk  as  they  please  about  the  frog- 
eaters  not  being  seamen,"  said  Grafton  to  the 
young  officers  congregated  about  him  on  the  quar 
ter-deck;  "  the  man  that  handles  that  ship  doesn't 
need  to  take  lessons  from  anybody.  Wheel,  there! 
Edge  up  into  the  wind,  will  you?  See  how  she  fol 
lows  us,  gentlemen!  She  gains  on  us  hand  over 
fist!  See  how  she  comes  down!  Bring  up  the 
despatches,  Mr.  Stanhope,  and  have  them  ready  to 
heave  overboard;  they  mustn't  get  them  if  we  are 
captured!  Ah!  They're  giving  us  a  taste  of  their 
metal  at  last.  Steady  now,  keep  her  up  to  it! 
Luff  her  hard!" 

As  he  spoke  the  line-of-battle  ship  suddenly 
yawed,  a  puff  of  smoke  broke  out  forward  as  her 
bow-chaser  bore  and  a  shot  from  a  thirty-two- 

ii 


The   guiberon  Touch 

pounder  came  hurtling  through  the  air  at  the  brig. 
Fortunately  it  missed  her. 

"  Shall  we  make  any  reply,  sir?  "  asked  Stan 
hope. 

"Nonsense!"  replied  Grafton.  "We  haven't 
a  gun  on  board  that  could  carry  half  the  distance. 
No,  hold  on  as  we  are.  I  don't  think  she'll  fire 
again.  She's  overhauling  us  so  rapidly  that  there 
is  no  use  of  their  damaging  their  prize." 

They  watched  the  chasing  ship  carefully  for  a 
few  moments  in  gloomy  silence.  There  was  no 
escape  for  them  apparently. 

"  Now,  I  have  an  idea,"  burst  out  Grafton  at 
last.  "  If  it  fails,  I  guess  we  are  good  for  a  cruise 
on  shore  in  one  of  Johnnie's  prisons.  Slocum,  let 
her  go  off  a  bit  more,  now.  I  think  we've  enough 
offing  to  weather  Ushant,  with  something  to  spare, 
and  I  want  monsieur  to  get  well  to  windward  of  us. 
Stanhope,  yon's  a  noble  ship.  We  can  outfight 
these  Frenchmen,  but  we  can't  outbuild  them.  The 
best  ships  in  our  navy  are  those  captured  from  King 
Louis." 

"  What's  the  use  of  our  bothering  to  build 
ships  if  the  French  will  build  them  for  us?  "  asked 
the  matter-of-fact  and  practical  Stanhope.  "All 
we've  got  to  do  is  to  go  out  and  take  'em." 

"  We  won't  take  that  one,  though." 

"  No,  sir,  we  won't,"  answered  Stanhope,  sigh 
ing  over  the  gloomy  prospect. 

"  I  wish  to  God  we  had  the  old  Torbay  under  us, 
then  we'd  not  show  yon  fellow  our  heels  but  our 
teeth,  hey,  Stanhope?  "  exclaimed  the  captain. 

12 


The  Smashing  of  the  Brig 

"  Ay, sir;  and  with  old  Hawke  in  command- 


"  No,  man,  "answered  the  young  captain  prompt 
ly;  "  I'd  want  to  command  her  myself.  I  warrant 
that,  with  you  to  second  me,  we  would  give  a  good 
account  of  the  gentleman  yonder!  See  how  he 
overhauls  us!  If  he  should  yaw  now  and  give  us  a 
broadside,  I  am  afraid  it  would  be  all  over  with  us. 
Look,  how  he  is  eating  up  to  windward  of  us  too! 
What  a  tub  this  is!" 

"Ay,  he  slips  along  like  a  yacht.  We've  no  show 
at  all.  It's  all  up  with  us,  I'm  afraid,"  answered 
Stanhope. 

"  I  don't  quite  give  up  the  game  yet.  We'll 
have  one  more  try  at  a  run  presently.  If  he  does 
the  right  thing,  then  we're  lost ;  if  not,  I  think  we'll 
make  it." 

11  You  can  count  on  a  seaman  like  the  man  hand 
ling  that  ship  doing  the  right  thing,  sure." 

"  Yes,  I  fear  so.     Still  we  can  but  try!  h 

Meanwhile  old  Jabez  had  been  steering  the  brig 
with  consummate  seamanship.  With  every  ap 
pearance  of  endeavouring  to  hold  her  close  to  the 
wind,  he  had  skilfully  allowed  her  to  fall  off,  little  by 
little,  until  she  was  quite  perceptibly  to  leeward  of 
the  French  ship.  Grafton  judged  that  now  or  never 
things  were  opportune  for  his  daring  attempt. 

"  Send  the  men  to  the  starboard  battery,  Mr. 
Stanhope," -he  said  quietly,  as  he  realized  that  he 
had  approached  the  supreme  moment,  and  it  was 
about  time  to  try  his  coup,  or  give  over  the  attempt 
?nd  give  up  the  ship.  "  Get  the  stuns'ls  ready 
for  setting  and  see  that  the  gear  is  all  clear.  I  want 

13 


The   guiberon   Touch 

smart  work  from  the  sail-trimmers,  now!  Slocum, 
stand  by  that  helm  and  mind  the  orders!  Bid  the 
men  train  their  guns  aft,  Stanhope,  and  fire  when 
I  give  the  word.  Now,  then!  Up  with  the  helm! 
Over  with  it!  Hard-a-weather!  Tend  the  after- 
braces!  Hands  ready!  Round  in  forward,  flatten 
in  the  head-sheets!  So!  Stand  by  with  the  star 
board  battery!  Now!  Fire!  Let  her  have  it, 
men!  Sway  away  with  those  stuns'ls!  Steady 
with  the  helm!  Quick,  for  God's  sake!  Well 
done,  all!  " 

Once  more  the  eight  six-pounders  barked  out. 
In  a  cloud  of  her  own  smoke  the  Boxer  rounded  on 
her  heel  again  and,  bringing  the  wind  aft  again, 
darted  away  at  right  angles  to  her  former  course. 
Covered  with  stuns'ls  alow  and  aloft,  she  leaped 
along  at  a  great  pace,  gaining  distance  with  every 
moment.  Were  they  to  succeed  in  escaping? 

But  the  captain  of  the  liner  had  foreseen  the 
skilful  endeavour.  A  less  able  seaman  might  have 
attempted  to  emulate  the  Englishman's  motions  and 
followed  on  the  brig's  heels;  a  less  thoughtful  com 
mander  would  not  have  been  ready  for  the  only 
move  which  would  have  stopped  the  daring  ma 
noeuvre.  With  proper  judgment,  he  chose  to  crush 
the  audacious  Englishman  with  his  mighty  battery. 

In  spite  of  the  promptness  with  which  Grafton's 
orders  had  been  carried  out,  and  the  advantage 
gained  thereby,  the  brig  was  still  within  easy  range 
of  all  but  the  lightest  guns  of  the  French  ship. 
Since  the  weather  was  mild,  it  permitted  the  lower 
deck  ports  to  be  opened  and  her  heaviest  guns  to 


The  Smashing  of  the  Brig 

be  used.  As  the  Boxer  presented  her  stern  to  her 
huge  antagonist,  the  latter  was  suddenly  wreathed 
with  fire  and  smoke.  The  thunderous  roar  of  her 
discharge  could  have  been  heard  for  miles.  Her 
captain  took  no  chance,  every  gun  that  bore  was 
discharged  at  the  doomed  vessel. 

A  tempest  of  iron  came  hurtling  aboard  the 
brig.  She  was  like  an  egg-shell  under  a  trip-ham 
mer.  From  a  trim  and  saucy  little  vessel  she  was 
reduced  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  to  a  wreck.  The 
main-mast  was  carried  away  a  few  feet  above  the 
deck,  the  foretop-mast  was  hanging  up  and  down 
the  foremast,  nearly  every  shroud  and  stay  had 
been  parted.  The  stern  of  the  brig  had  been 
beaten  in.  Her  boats  were  cut  to  pieces,  and  the 
decks  were  filled  with  dead  and  wounded,  poor 
Stanhope  among  the  former — a  round  shot  had 
taken  off  his  head.  Old  Jabez,  unhurt,  still  clasped 
the  wheel.  The  foresail,  though  almost  cut  to  rib 
bons,  still  held  a  little  wind,  and  the  brig  wallowed 
slowly  ahead  through  the  water. 

"  Good  God! "  exclaimed  Grafton,  who  had 
come  off  scatheless,  dazed  at  the  failure  of  his  effort 
and  the  deadly  price  he  had  paid  so  fruitlessly, 
"how  horrible!" 

It  had  been  a  gallant  attempt.  Indeed,  the 
only  possibility  of  escape  had  been  that  he  had  tried. 
It  had  failed  owing  to  the  preparedness  and  good 
judgment  of  the  French  captain.  There  were  not  ten 
sailors  in  France  who  could  have  done  so  well  as  he. 
With  almost  any  one  else  opposing  him,  Grafton 
might  have  escaped.  But  now  his  brig  was  a  wreck 

15 


The  guiberon  Touch 

beneath  him.  There  was  nothing  left  for  him  but 
to  surrender.  Throwing  his  weighted  bag  of  de 
spatches  overboard,  he  drew  a  handkerchief  from 
his  pocket  and  waved  it  toward  his  enemy. 

Seeing  the  hopeless  and  helpless  condition  of 
her  quarry,  the  French  ship  of  the  line  swept  grace 
fully  up  into  the  wind  by  the  side  of  the  broken 
brig.  Her  way  was  checked,  her  ponderous  yards 
swung,  and  she  hove-to  a  short  distance  off.  A 
magnificent  picture  she  presented,  with  her  frown 
ing  tiers  of  guns,  her  lofty  pyramids  of  sails,  her 
decks  crowded  with  brilliantly  uniformed  officers. 

The  French  could  plainly  see  that  there  was  no 
boat  left  on  the  Boxer;  therefore, in  a  few  moments, 
a  heavy  cutter  was  swung  from  the  davits  of  the 
liner  and  lowered  into  the  water.  Presently  an 
officer,  attended  by  a  surgeon  and  a  surgeon's 
mate,  stepped  on  the  deck  of  the  brig. 

"  You  speak  French,  monsieur? "  asked  the 
officer  of  Grafton,  who  stood  in  the  gangway  to  re 
ceive  him. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  American,  bowing. 

"  And  you  are ?  " 

"  Lieutenant  Philip  Grafton,  commanding  his 
Britannic  Majesty's  late  brig  Boxer.  And  you 
arc ?  " 

"  Lieutenant  St.  Andre  du  Verger,  of  his  Most 
Christian  Majesty's  ship-of-the-line  Le  Thesee, 
commanded  by  M.  le  Comte  de  Kersaint  de  Ker- 
guelen," 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  monsieur.  The  fortune 
of  war  has  made  me  your  prisoner." 

16 


The  Smashing  of  the  Brig 

"  M.  de  Kersaint  desires  that  you  repair  on 
board  his  ship  at  once,  monsieur." 

"  Willingly,  M.  du  Verger,"  said  Grafton,  striv 
ing  gallantly  to  hide  his  sadness  at  this  bitter  end 
ing  of  his  cruise.  "  At  your  orders.  Will  you  see 
to  the  poor  fellows  I  leave  here?  " 

"  With  pleasure,  M.  le  Capitaine.  I  have 
brought  a  surgeon  and  a  surgeon's  mate  for  the 
purpose." 


CHAPTER    III 

ENEMIES    ARE    FRIENDS 

THE  change  from  the  broken  and  shattered 
brig  to  the  spacious  and  magnificent  ship  of  the 
line  was  startling.  The  latter  was  a  brand-new  ship 
fresh  from  the  ways.  Every  improvement  which 
the  most  skilled  naval  architects  and  ship-builders 
of  the  day  could  devise — and  France  easily  led  all 
nations  in  the  firre  art  of  naval  construction  at  that 
time — had  been  lavished  upon  Le  Thesee.  The 
practical  ability  of  the  designers,  exhibited  in  many 
novel  and  useful  contrivances,  had  been  re-enforced 
and  not  obscured  by  a  lavish  display  of  polished 
metal  work,  ornamental  fittings,  and  wood-carving, 
which  would  have  better  suited  a  royal  yacht  than  a 
vessel  of  war. 

Every  gun  on  the  ship  was  of  brass,  and  pol 
ished  until  it  shone  like  new  gold  in  the  sunlight. 
Everything  was  spotlessly  clean;  and,  in  marked 
contrast  to  the  usual  run  of  French  ships,  the  crew 
of  this  one  was  quiet  and  orderly.  Efficiency  was 
suggested  by  everything  about  her.  Contrary  to 
the  usual  practice  of  men-of-war  in  that  period,  the 
seamen  were  clad  in  neat  uniforms  of  white  duck, 
while  the  officers,  of  course,  were  resplendent  in  the 

18 


Enemies  are  Friends 

blue  and  scarlet  and  gold  lace  of  the  French  ma 
rine  service.  It  was  evident  that  not  only  was  a 
sailor  in  command  but  a  disciplinarian  as  well. 

As  Grafton  came  through  the  gangway  he  was 
met  by  an  officer  and  conducted  aft  to  the  high 
poop  deck,  upon  which  a  brilliant  group  of  officers 
were  collected  about  a  tall,  splendid-looking  man 
in  the  prime  of  life,  who  was  evidently  the  com 
mander  of  the  ship.  Grafton  stepped  toward  him, 
bowed  gracefully,  and  then,  extending  his  sword, 
remarked  in  excellent  French,  of  which  he  was 
luckily  a  thorough  master: 

"  The  fortune  of  war,  monsieur,  has  made  my 
small  vessel  the  prize  of  your  magnificent  ship." 

"  You  are  a  bold  man,  young  sir,  and  in  many 
instances — perhaps  most — your  gallant  attempt  to 
escape  by  running  off  before  the  wind  would  have 
been  successful,"  returned  the  French  captain  mag 
nanimously.  Then,  touching  the  hilt  of  the  young 
American's  sword,  he  added  graciously,  bowing  in 
his  turn,  "  Retain  your  sword,  monsieur,  I  should 
be  loath  indeed  to  deprive  so  brave  a  man  of  the 
weapon  which  he  has  shown  he  knows  how  to  wear 
so  worthily.  Sang  dioii!  "  he  added,  relapsing  into 
the  patois  of  his  native  province,  "  'twas  an  impu 
dent  thing,  sir,  to  slap  us  in  the  face  like  that  when 
we  first  caught  sight  of  you,  and  then  try  to  run 
for  it!  But  there  are  few  keels  laid  down  that  Le 
Thesee  can  not  overhaul,  I  think.  Hey,  mes 
sieurs?  "  he  questioned,  turning  to  his  officers,  his 
remark  being  received  with  acclamations  of  assent. 
"  Young  sir,"  he  continued,  addressing  Grafton 

19 


The   guiberon  Touch 

once  more,  "  will  you  give  me  the  name  of  your 
brig?  " 

"  H.  B.  M.  brig  Boxer — at  least  she  was  his  this 
morning.  She  is  yours  now,  monsieur." 

"  Where  from  and  whither  bound,  monsieur?  " 

"  From  Gibraltar  to  Portsmouth." 

"  On  what  errand?" 

"  With  despatches,  sir." 

"Where  are  they?" 

"  Overboard  and  sunk,  sir." 

"  Ha!  And  what  of  the  fleet  of  Monsieur  Bos- 
cawen?  " 

"  I  can  tell  you  nothing  of  that,  sir." 

"  Nor  as  to  the  contents  of  the  despatches?  " 

"  Certainly  not,  sir!  " 

"  Humph!     Your  name,  young  sir,  and  rank." 

"  Philip  Grafton,  monsieur,  a  lieutenant  in 
H.  B.  M.  Navy,  lately  First  of  the  Torbay,  ship  of 
the  line,  and  more  recently  commanding  the 
Boxer." 

"Grafton!"  exclaimed  the  other  surprised, 
"  Are  you  an  Englishman?  " 

"  No,  monsieur,"  answered  the  young  officer 
promptly  and  proudly,  "  I  am  an  American.  I  was 
born  in  Massachusetts." 

"  And  you  are  the  son  of ?  " 

"  Admiral  John  Grafton,  monsieur,  who  com 
manded  the  colonial  armed  ship  Shirley." 

"  At  the  siege  of  Louisburg  in  1745?  " 

"  The  same,  sir." 

"  Did  your  father  ever  tell  you  of  the  engage 
ment  he  and  one  or  two  other  private  armed  ships 

20 


Enemies  are   Friends    . 

had  with  a  French  frigate  seeking  to  enter  the 
harbour?  " 

"  La  Renomme?  "  interrupted  Grafton  in  great- 
surprise  at  the  other's  knowledge.  "  Certain 
ly,  monsieur,  often.  'Twas  that  fight,  indeed, 
that  won  his  King's  approval  and  gained  him 
the  commission  which  was  in  turn  passed  on 
to  me." 

"  My  faith,  sir!  "  exclaimed  the  French  captain, 
smiling,  "  'twas  a  hot  fight  indeed!  I  never  have 
seen  a  better.  He  well  deserved  the  commission 
he  won.  No  wonder  that  you  did  not  quail  before 
a  ship  of  the  line,  young  man!  You  have  in  you 
the  mettle  of  your  father." 

"  Did  you  know  my  father,  sir?  "  asked  Grafton 
in  great  surprise. 

"  I  have  heard  him  speak  from  the  iron  throats 
of  his  guns,  sir." 

"  Then  you  are ?  " 

"  I  was  the  captain  of  La  Renomme." 

"  And  your  name  is ?  " 

"  Guy  de  Caetnampreu,  Comte  de  Kersaint  de 
Kerguelen,  Capitaine  de  Vaisseau  of  His  Most 
Christian  Majesty  Louis  XV,  whom  God  protect, 
and  very  much  at  your  service,  monsieur.  Here  is 
no  case  of  prisoner  and  enemy,  gentlemen.  The 
father  fought  me,  I  befriend  the  son.  Is  it  not  just, 
messieurs?  "  asked  Kersaint  turning  to  his  officers 
once  more. 

It  was  Grafton  who  answered: 

"  'Tis  more  than  justice,  Monsieur  le  Comte, 
'tis  kindness  indeed!  " 

21 


The   Quiberon   Touch 

"  N'importe,  monsieur;  I  would  that  I  could 
give  you  back  your  ship,  but  that,  of  course,  is  im 
possible.  Nevertheless,  your  captivity  shall  be 
made  as  light  as  possible.  We  are  bound  in  for 
Brest,  and  this  gentleman  here,"  indicating  an  old 
man  in  rich  civilian  dress,  who  had  surveyed  the 
scene  with  interest,  "  is  my  most  noble  kinsman,  the 
Marquis  de  Chabot-Rohan.  He  will,  I  am  sure,  as 
my  prospective  sailing  thence  in  a  few  days  debars 
me  from  keeping  you  with  me  or  extending  you  the 
hospitality  of  my  poor  house  take  you  into  his  own 
chateau  until  you  are  exchanged.  'Twill  be  a 
pleasant  prison,  sir,  and  there  grows  a  wild  Breton 
rose  within  the  walls.  Is  it  not  so,  Monsieur  le 
Comte?  " 

"  As  to  the  rose,  I  can  not  say.  Monsieur  Graf- 
ton  may  find  it  thorny;  but  as  to  receiving  him,  cer 
tainly,  de  Kersaint,"  responded  the  old  man  just 
addressed  by  the  captain.  "  I  have  a  soft  spot  in 
my  heart  for  Americans,  as  you  know,  since  my  only 
son  honoured  himself  by  marrying  a  daughter  of 
Virginia — a  land  of  brave  men,  messieurs,  and  fair 
women.  Helas!  " 

"  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  quickly  answered  Graf- 
ton,  who  had  not  spent  some  years  of  his  life  at 
Court  for  nothing,  "  I  thank  you  for  your  hospital 
ity  and  I  congratulate  you  upon  the  -source  from 
which  it  flows.  I  accept  it  gladly — roses  and  thorns 
as  well." 

"  Monsieur,  you  honour  me  by  your  acceptance. 
As  to  the  rose,  Monsieur  de  Kersaint  speaks  with 
the  romantic  license  of  Brittany.  'Tis  but  a  child, 

22 


Enemies  are   Friends 

monsieur,  my  little  grand-daughter.  I  am  the 
thorns — a  dull  old  set  surely,"  added  the  old  man 
smiling  rather  grimly. 

"  Faith,  de  Chabot,  he  who  would  fain  pluck 
your  rose  will  find  you  sharp  enough,  I'll  warrant. 
Morbleu,  you  haven't  forgot  that  parry  and  return 
you  taught  me  when  I  was  a  boy  and  you  a  young 
soldier.  Ah,  messieurs,  if  any  of  you  seek  speedy 
gentle  death  you  may  easily  find  it  before  the  Mar 
quis'  point " 

"  Gentlemen,"  smiled  the  old  man,  "  here  is  no 
thought  of  death,  but  the  tale  of  a  little  girl.  Mon 
sieur  Graft  on " 

"  There  are  roses  in  England  and  America, 
Monsieur  le  Marquis — ay,  and  thorns  too.  And 
no  true  man  was  ever  deterred  from  wearing  one 
for  fear  of  the  other.  But,  mistake  me  not,  I'll 
not  seek  to  pluck  your  Breton  flower,"  replied  the 
American,  entering  into  the  spirit  of  the  jest.  "  I 
shall  be  your  prisoner  and " 

"  Say  my  guest,  monsieur.  But  enough,"  said 
the  old  marquis,  frowning  slightly.  "  As  to  the 
rose,  we  have  carried  the  pleasantry  too  far  al 
ready,  messieurs.  Let  us  have  no  more  of  it.  Mon 
sieur  Grafton,  direct  your  private  baggage  to  be 
brought  to  the  ship  here;  we  will  leave  for  my  cha 
teau  on  our  arrival  this  evening." 

"  Monsieur  de  Kersaint,"  said  Grafton,  "  will 
you  add  to  the  obligations  under  which  you  have 
laid  me,  by  giving  orders  that  my  poor  men,  the 
wounded,  I-  mean,  are  to  be  well  cared  for,  and  then 
have  my  private  baggage  sent  off  to  Le  Thesee? 

23 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

My  steward,  who  is  aboard  the  Boxer,  will  attend 
to  it." 

"  Your  men  shall  be  attended  to  as  if  they  be 
longed  to  me,"  responded  the  French  captain  gra 
ciously,  "  and  your  private  belongings  secured. 
Meanwhile,  will  you  step  into  my  cabin  that  we 
may  discuss  further  our  common  interests  and 
friendships?  Monsieur  St.  Laurent,"  he  added, 
turning  to  his  executive  officer,  who  held  the  rank 
of  Capitaine  de  fregate,  "  will  you  throw  a  prize  crew 
on  the  doughty  little  Boxer — a  hard  hitter  indeed 
— and  bid  her  follow  us  into  Brest  under  a  jury-rig 
when  she  can.  On  second  thought,  monsieur,  lie 
by  her  for  a  few  hours  until  she  is  fit  to  go  ahead. 
We  would  better  convoy  her  in.  I  should  not  like 
to  lose  her  for  all  she  is  but  a  small  prize." 


24 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE    GARDEN    AND    THE    ROSE 

THE  Chateau  de  Josselin,  a  place  not  unknown 
to  history,  lay  hard  by  the  sea-shore  a  few  miles 
from  the  town  of  Brest  toward  which  it  turned  its 
landward  side.  It  was  a  building  of  great  antiq 
uity  and  had  been  in  the  possession  of  the  family  of 
de  Rohan  from  feudal  times.  One  face  looked  sea 
ward  over  the  wild  crags,  where  the  stormy  waves 
of  the  Bay  of  Biscay  broke  in  ceaseless  onslaught, 
beating  themselves  into  the  white  foam  of  sea  agony 
upon  the  stern  shores. 

At  the  foot  of  the  keep  or  principal  tower, 
which  was  built  upon  the  sheer  edge  of  a  precipi 
tous  headland,  there  was  a  deep  indentation  in  the 
cliffs,  which,  if  one  possessed  sufficient  skill  and 
knowledge  to  thread  the  narrow  passage  twisting 
between  the  roaring  breakers,  afforded  a  safe  har 
borage  for  boats  and  small  coasting  vessels.  It 
had  been  long  unused,  of  course,  owing  to  the  spa 
cious  harbour  of  Brest  close  at  hand,  but  in  old  days 
it  had  been  a  favoured  haven  of  the  adventurous 
lords  of  Rohan — and  sometimes  of  their  enemies 
as  well. 

Landward  the  main  chateau  overlooked  a  singu- 
3  25 


The   guiberon  Touch 

larly  pleasant  garden  filled  with  ancient  fruit  and 
shade  trees,  the  whole  inclosed  by  a  high  wall  from 
which,  and  better  still  from  the  high  tower,  a  full 
view  of  Brest,  its  fortifications,  its  naval  station, 
its  harbour,  and  its  shipping  could  be  obtained.  It 
was  to  this  castle  that  Philip  Grafton  was  conducted 
upon  the  evening  of  the  arrival  of  Le  Thesee  in  the 
harbour. 

The  Marquis  de  Chabot-Rohan,  or,  to  give  him 
his  familiar  title,  de  Chabot,  the  heir  and  successor 
to  the  dignities  of  the  de  Rohans  in  those  parts, 
and  consequently  the  master  of  rich  and  extensive 
possessions,  kept  up  a  princely  estate  in  the  old 
chateau,  and  it  pleased  him  still  to  perpetuate  the 
ancient  usages  and  customs  of  his  house  so  far  as 
he  could.  The  castle  itself  seemed  to  be  maintained 
as  a  mediaeval  fortress  might  have  been.  The  ditch 
surrounding  it  on  the  landward  side,  instead  of 
being  dry  and  grass-grown,  as  was  the  custom,  was 
kept  well  filled  with  water;  the  drawbridge — the 
sole  means  of  crossing  the  moat — was  raised  and 
lowered  at  appointed  hours;  and  close  watch  and 
ward  were  kept  by  the  feudal  retainers  of  the  house 
at  the  gateway  and  on  the  walls.  To  seaward  the 
walls  were  so  high  and  so  strong  that  the  castle, 
placed  on  the  very  edge  of  the  beetling  cliffs,  was 
believed  to  be  impregnable. 

Lord  of  the  high,  the  low,  and  the  middle  jus 
tice,  the  marquis  endeavoured  to  continue  and  ex 
emplify  the  traditions  of  the  old  feudal  barons, 
whose  former  powers  and  antique  privileges  in  most 
cases  had  been  abrogated  by  the  overwhelming  ab- 

26 


The  Garden  and  the  Rose 

solutism  and  the  resolute  determination  of  Louis 
XIV.  But  this  was  Brittany,  the  land  of  the  past, 
the  oldest  corner  in  Europe.  Things  moved  slowly 
in  that  province.  The  King  was  loved  more  and 
feared  less  there  than  in  any  other  part  of  France. 
Conservative,  tenacious,  yet  loyal,  the  people  could 
not  be  shaken  from  their  ancient  faiths,  nor  moved 
to  abandon  their  customs,  hallowed  by  long  an 
tiquity,  because  the  rest  of  the  world  had  forgotten 
them.  There  the  sixteenth  century,  its  ideas  and 
ideals  remained  unshattered  by  the  iconoclasm  of 
the  eighteenth. 

Furthermore,  de  Chabot's  great  wealth,  his 
princely  connections,  his  wide  influence  and  his  dis 
tinguished  services — for  he  had  been  a  soldier 
whose  name  was  associated  with  some  of  the  great 
est  victories  of  his  warlike  monarch — had  insured 
him  an  indulgence  which  had  sufficed  to  prevent 
any  interruption  of  his  habits,  and  to  preclude  any 
very  strict  inquiry  into  his  course.  In  short,  he 
was  tacitly  allowed  to  live  as  it  pleased  him.  He 
was  an  old  man  with  but  little  time  left  him,  and  it 
would  all  soon  end  at  best. 

His  only  son,  the  young  Comte  de  Rohan — and 
save  de  Kersaint  almost  his  only  relative — had  mar 
ried  Mistress  Anne  Page  of  Virginia.  The  young 
man  had  been  a  naval  officer  whose  ship  had  been 
stationed  upon  the  coast  of  North  America,  where 
he  had  greatly  enjoyed  the  spontaneous  and  warm 
hearted  hospitality  of  the  colonists  of  the  famous 
Old  Dominion.  Carried  away  by  her  charms  of 
mind  and  person,  and  without  waiting  for  the  con- 

27 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

sent  of  his  father,  he  straightway  married  this 
young  woman  from  the  New  World  whose  beauty 
and  character  had  made  so  deep  an  impression  upon 
him;  and  he  had  brought  her  to  France  in  his  own 
frigate. 

His  father,  at  first  highly  incensed  at  what  he 
deemed  a  mesalliance,  had  sternly  refused  to  receive 
him;  but  the  tales  of  the  beauty  of  his  unwelcome 
daughter-in-law,  which  were  poured  in  his  ear  by 
those  who  fell  under  the  sway  of  her  loveliness,  and 
certain  substantial  evidences  of  the  great  estates  in 
the  New  World  belonging  to  the  honourable  family 
from  which  she  sprang,  and  to  which  she  was  sole 
heiress,  which  his  son  had  found  means  to  bring  to 
his  attention,  had  first  awakened  his  curiosity  and 
finally  mollified  his  wrath.  He  had  at  last  con 
sented  to  an  interview,  and  thereafter  had  promptly 
succumbed  to  the  charms  of  the  winsome  and  beau 
tiful  American  as  completely  as  had  his  son.  Re 
signing  his  commission  in  the  French  navy  the 
young  count  with  his  wife,  overjoyed  at  the  rec 
onciliation,  had  returned  to  his  father's  house  and, 
as  he  fondly  hoped,  settled  down  to  years  of  do 
mestic  bliss  and  tranquility. 

There  a  daughter,  the  first  and  only  child  of 
this  strange  union,  was  born;  but  the  life  that 
came  was  paid  for  by  the  life  that  went,  for  when 
the  child  was  but  a  few  days  old,  the  young  mother 
died.  The  inconsolable  young  count  did  not  long 
survive  the  loss  of  his  adored  wife.  To  distract 
his  grief  he  resumed  his  service  in  the  French  navy, 
receiving  his  old  rank  through  his  father's  influ- 

28 


The  Garden  and  the  Rose 

ence,  and  was  shortly  after  wrecked  and  lost  with 
his  ship  on  a  voyage  to  the  French  East  Indies, 
while  his  daughter  was  still  an  infant. 

It  was  a  crushing  blow  to  the  old  man,  but  with 
Spartan  resolution  he  bore  up  under  it  and  turned 
to  his  little  grand-daughter  for  comfort  and  conso 
lation.  As  the  days  sped  away  the  child  intrenched 
herself  more  and  more  in  the  old  man's  heart.  He 
withdrew  himself  from  the  world  in  which  he  had 
been  so  great  and  gay  a  figure  and  devoted  him 
self  assiduously  to  her  welfare. 

Little  Anne,  Countess  de  Rohan  in  her  own 
right,  lived  alone  with  her  grandfather  in  the  old 
Chateau  de  Josselin.  Save  when  unavoidably  called 
away  on  business  connected  with  the  management 
of  his  great  estates  he  rarely  left  her.  He  watched 
over  her  with  the  solicitude  of  a  mother  and  the  de 
votion  of  a  lover.  The  withered  old  man  grew  to 
love  her  as  few  children  were  then  loved — certainly 
with  such  a  feeling  as  few  Frenchmen  of  rank  at 
that  day  ever  exhibited  toward  a  child.  She  was 
the  sole  heiress  to  all  his  possessions,  the  last 
of  that  branch  of  her  ancient  house,  and  he  lavished 
upon  her  a  depth  of  tenderness  and  a  wealth  of 
affection  which  surrounded  her  with  an  atmosphere 
of  adoration. 

Loath  to  part  with  her,  instead  of  committing 
her  education  to  one  of  the  great  conventual 
schools,  as  was  the  custom  among  the  noblesse  of 
the  country,  he  supervised  it  himself.  Her  grow 
ing  mind  afforded  him  new  food  for  wonder  daily, 
her  present  engrossed  his  mind,  her  future  filled  his 

29 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

dreams.  As  he  was  one  of  the  most  accomplished 
gentlemen  of  his  time,  and  had  been  a  man  of  the 
world  in  the  highest  and  best  sense  of  the  word, 
she  received  such  training  as  had  not  often  been 
bestowed  upon  a  young  demoiselle  of  France. 

In  but  one  particular,  indeed,  the  old  man's 
scheme  of  education,  in  the  carrying  out  of  which 
he  was  assisted  by  the  best  masters  that  money 
could  procure,  might  have  been  deemed  faulty. 
The  marquis,  as  he  grew  old,  lived  more  and  more 
in  the  past — and  as  he  went  backward  in  time  he 
took  the  little  maid  back  with  him. 

The  same  strange  fancy  which  led  him  to  re 
store  mediaeval  usages  and  customs  as  far  as  pos 
sible,  and  which  made  his  favourite  study  the  an 
cient  tales  of  chivalry,  the  stories  of  the  hardy 
adventurous  knights  like  the  great  du  Guesclin, 
some  of  whose  blood  indeed  ran  in  his  veins,  gave 
an  unusual  turn  to  the  thoughts  of  his  grand-daugh 
ter.  She,  like  him,  was  steeped  in  the  romantic 
lore  of  ancient  days.  The  traditions  of  their  an 
cient  house,  the  deeds  of  daring,  devotion,  and  cour 
age  which  had  made  the  de  Rohans  illustrious,  were 
as  familiar  to  her  as  fairy  tales  and  childish  rhymes 
are  to  other  children.  Her  own  maidenly  vision 
dimly  comprehended  the  future  through  the  win 
dows  of  the  past. 

Knowing  nothing  of  the  life  of  the  world 
around  her,  she  gazed  from  the  tower  windows 
of  the  castle  over  the  leagues  of  tossing  sea,  and 
dreamed  vague  dreams  of  shining  knights  coming 
from  far  away  to  break  lance  and  spear  in  her 

30 


The  Garden  and  the  Rose 

honour;  to  crown  her  Queen  of  Love  and  Beauty, 
after  deeds  of  daring  to  which  the  minstrels  and 
troubadours  would  give  as  wide  a  fame  as  they 
would  spread  the  story  of  her  virtues  and  beauty. 
The  world  of  her  mind  was  very  different  from  the 
real  one  in  which  by-and-bye  she  must  needs  live, 
but  no  one  had  ever  told  her  of  the  difference.  And 
this  creature  of  quaint  contradictions  was  yet  but 
a  child  after  all,  more  often  playing  with  dolls  in 
the  intervals  between  her  studies  and  her  dreams 
than  anything  else.  The  dolls  at  least  were  real, 
and  though  she  should  have  outgrown  them,  in 
stinctively,  in  default  of  better  things,  she  still  clung 
to  them.  She  was  romance  wanting  a  touch;  the 
sleeping  beauty,  expectant  even  in  dreams;  the 
potential  flower  waiting  the  kiss  of  the  sun. 

It  was  to  this  ancient  chateau  with  its  sugges 
tion  of  history,  its  atmosphere  of  romance,  and  its 
Breton  wild  rose,  scarcely  reaching  the  dignity  of 
a  bud  yet,  but  still  inclosed  in  the  soft  calyx  of  inno 
cence  and  inexperience,  that  Grafton  was  brought 
at  the  request  of  de  Kersaint  through  the  complai 
sance  of  the  marquis. 

It  was  evening  when  the  two  gentlemen,  at 
tended  by  a  numerous  retinue,  rode  up  to  the  great 
gateway.  The  few  miles  that  intervened  between 
Brest  and  the  Chateau  de  Josselin  had  been  passed 
in  animated  conversation,  and  the  acquaintance 
which  had  begun  on  the  decks  of  Le  Thesee  under 
such  strange  auspices,  had  ripened  into  a  pleasant 
intimacy.  The  dashing  young  American  sailor  had 
been  attracted  by  the  evidences  of  culture,  the  keen 


The  guiberon  Touch 

but  kindly  humour,  the  rich  stores  of  knowledge, 
possessed  by  the  marquis;  and  the  latter  had  been 
touched  by  the  pleasant  deference  and  open  frank 
ness,  as  well  as  the  shrewd  common  sense  and  grace 
ful  manner,  of  his  young  companion. 

When  they  arrived  before  the  gate  of  the  castle 
as  the  sun  had  set  the  drawbridge  was  raised.  As 
they  waited  for  it  to  be  lowered  in  answer  to  the 
marquis'  hail,  the  young  man  remarked  that  it  all 
seemed  quite  mediaeval,  fitting  in  appropriately  with 
the  wild  surroundings  and  the  barren  shore. 

"  Monsieur,"  answered  the  marquis  gravely,  as 
if  fearing  a  covert  jest,  "  I  keep,  so  far  as  I  can,  the 
state  of  my  forefathers.  This  is  my  domain,"  he 
continued,  as  they  rode  through  the  ranks  of  the 
guards  who  had  been  paraded  underneath  the  great 
gateway,  and  who  were  dressed  in  quaint  outlandish 
costumes  which  reminded  Grafton  of  the  pictures 
in  some  old  book,  "  this  is  my  castle,  these  my 
retainers.  Here  my  will  is  law.  Within  these 
walls  I  am  supreme,  saving  only  the  feudal  rights  of 
my  over-lord  and  master,  His  Most  Christian 
Majesty,  whom  God  preserve.  While  you  are  here, 
monsieur,  the  castle  is  yours.  You  are  free  to 
come  and  go  where  you  will  within  the  walls,  and 
should  you  not  attempt  to  pass  the  gate,  you  will 
find  nothing  to  remind  you  that  you  are  a  prisoner. 
So  securely  guarded  is  my  castle,  Monsieur  Grafton, 
that  I  do  not  even  ask  you  for  your  parole.  You 
hear,  Jean-Renaud?  "  he  added,  turning  to  the  ser 
geant  of  the  guard,  "  Monsieur  Grafton  is  an  Amer 
ican  gentleman  who  honours  our  poor  house  by 

32 


The  Garden  and   the  Rose 

accepting  its  hospitality.  Mark  you — and  you  too, 
monsieur,  pray  give  heed — he  is  free  to  go  any 
where  but  over  the  walls  or  through  the  gate.  See 
to  it,  Jean-Renaud,  that  in  no  case  is  he  allowed  to 
escape.  You  will  forgive  the  necessity  for  these 
orders,  Monsieur  Grafton,  but  I  am  responsible  for 
you.  The  chatelaine?  "  he  added,  turning  again 
to  Jean-Renaud,  "  where  is  she?  " 

"  She  has  retired,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  an 
swered  Jean-Renaud,  "  not  knowing  that  you  were 
to  be  here  this  evening.  Shall  I  go ?  " 

"  It  is  my  wish  that  she  be  not  disturbed,  Jean- 
Renaud.  Come,  captain,  let  us  enter.  Supper  and 
a  bottle  of  wine  after  our  long  ride  will  doubtless 
be  as  acceptable  to  you  as  to  me.  Allow  me  to  pre 
cede  you,  monsieur — only  to  show  you  the  way 
in  these  old  halls,  of  course." 

After  partaking  of  a  generous  repast  in  the  an 
cient  banqueting-hall  of  the  castle,  Grafton,  now  at 
tended  by  Jean-Renaud,  was  shown  to  a  huge  room, 
richly  and  comfortably  furnished,  the  windows  of 
which  overlooked  the  garden.  He  was  informed 
that  this  was  to  be  his  own  chamber  during  his 
sojourn  at  the  castle.  Tired  out  by  the  trying 
experiences  of  the  day,  and  invited  thereto  by  a 
great  old-fashioned,  comfortable-looking  bed,  the 
young  man  immediately  retired  and  soon  sank  to 
rest. 


33 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    CRADLE    SONG" 

"  You  say  we  have  a  visitor,  Josette?  " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle,  so  Jean-Renaud  says." 

"  An  English  gentleman?  " 

"  Jean-Renaud  thinks  so,  because  he  certainly 
is  not  French." 

"  Yet  you  say  he  spoke  French  to  Jean-Renaud 
when  he  put  him  to  bed?  " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle." 

"  Good  French?  " 

"  Not  good  French  like  our  Bas-Breton  people 
speak,  but " 

"  Like  my  grandfather  speaks,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  something  like  that,  Mademoiselle 
Anne." 

"  And  he  is  a  great,  tall,  red-faced  old  man,  I 
suppose?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  mademoiselle,  not  at  all.  He  is 
rather  small." 

"  Smaller  than  my  grandfather?  " 

"  Yes,  and  slender " 

"Oh!     A  little  baby  man,  then?  " 

"  Wrong  again,  mademoiselle.  He  looks  very 
active,  hardy,  and  strong.  He  is  bold;  he  has  the 
grand  air,  the  noble  manner,  and " 

34 


The  Cradle  Song 

"  Did  Jean-Renaud  tell  you  all  this,  Josette?  " 

"  No,  mademoiselle,"  answered  the  maid,  dis 
concerted  by  the  direct  interrogation  of  her  young 
questioner,  "  I — I — saw  him  when  he  came  in,  and 
while  they  were  at  supper  I  peeped  through  the 
door." 

"  Monsieur  le  Marquis  would  be  very  angry  in 
deed  if  he  knew  that,  Josette." 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle,  I  know " 

"  But  what  did  he  look  like?  " 

"  Handsome!     Hein!     His  hair  curls,  'tis  very, 
blond — and  his  eyes!    Ciel!    Blue,  blue  like  the  sea, 
mademoiselle,  and  his  cheeks  red " 

"  Man  Dieu!  Quel  beau  chevalier!  You  must 
be  in  love  with  him,  Josette!  " 

"  No,  mademoiselle!  Nay,  'tis  not  for  the  likes 
of  me " 

"  True,  true,"  said  the  young  chatelaine  gravely. 
'*'  He  is  a  noble  knight,  doubtless.  He  had  red 
cheeks,  you  say?  " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle." 

"  Not  like  my  pale  ones,  I  suppose;  but  then 
the  English  always  were  gross  and  red  in  the 
cheek." 

"  But,  mademoiselle " 

"  That  will  do,  Josette,  you  weary  me  with  this 
stranger.  Did  you  bring  the  new  dolls?  " 

"  Here  they  are,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  faithful 
Josette,  producing  two  elaborately  dressed  Pari 
sian  dolls  from  beneath  her  apron.  "  They  came  by 
special  messenger  from  Paris  last  night  after  you 
had  retired." 

35 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  the  young  girl,  rapturously, 
"  how  beautiful  they  are!  I  thought  I  had  about 
done  with  dolls,  but  these  are  so  lovely.  What 
grand  dames  they  are!  Give  them  to  me,  Jo 
sette." 

"  How  kind  of  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  mademoi 
selle,"  answered  the  maid,  who  was  also  the  foster 
sister  and  youthful  confidante  of  the  countess,  as 
she  handed  her  the  two  dolls. 

"  Yes,  surely,"  replied  the  little  girl,  "  but  then 
he's  always  that.  He's  so  kind  that  I  almost  wish 
he  would  be  cross  with  me  sometimes.  I  think  I'll 
marry  somebody  that  he  won't  like  just  to  make 
him  angry." 

"  Jean-Renaud  says,"  answered  Josette,  shud 
dering  in  anticipation,  "  that  Monsieur  le  Marquis 
is  terrible  when  he  is  angry." 

"  Dear  me!  "  said  the  child,  "  I  should  not  like 
him  to  be  terrible — just  nicely  angry.  Do  you  sup 
pose  the  Englishman  will  be  terrible  when  he's 
angry?  " 

"  They  say  the  English  always  are — but  this 
one  doesn't  look  like  it." 

"  Oh,  do  you  know,"  said  the  capricious  little 
maiden,  "  these  are  beautiful  dolls,  but  I  don't 
believe  I  like  them  after  all  as  much  as  old 
'  Toto.'  " 

"  I  brought  her  along,  too,"  returned  Josette, 
producing  her  from  a  pocket  in  her  dress,  "  I 
thought  you  might  want  her,  mademoiselle." 

"  Oh,  give  her  to  me!  "  exclaimed  the  young 
mother,  extending  her  hand  to  take  the  old  rag 

36 


The  Cradle  Song 

affair,  "  I  am  tired  of  walking  and  talking,  Josette. 
You  are  so  very  uninteresting  this  morning.  You 
can't  speak  of  anything  but  that  Englishman! 
Let's  sit  down  here  under  this  beech-tree  and  sing 
the  dolls  to  sleep.  You  take  the  two  from  Paris. 
We'll  play  they're  twins,  and  I  will  take  poor 
old  Toto.  She  shall  not  be  neglected  for  the 
beautiful  ladies  from  the  city,  shall  she?  Poor  old 
Toto!  I  shall  never  have  any  more  dolls,  Josette. 
I  certainly  am  too  old  for  them.  If  it  were  a  real 
baby,  now,  or  a  knight,"  continued  this  small  bun 
dle  of  inconsistencies,  "  how  I  would  love  it!  But 
that  is  not  to  be.  Helas,  Josette!  Come,  let  us 
put  them  to  sleep." 

"  But,  mademoiselle,  'tis  early  morning — "  re 
sponded  the  unimaginative  peasant. 

"  Stupid,  we  can  play  'tis  night,  can't  we?  Be 
sides,  it's  always  good  for  children  to  take  a  nap. 
Grandfather  says  '  the  more  sleepy  the  eye  in  the 
daytime  the  brighter  the  eye  at  night.'  You  sit 
there,  and  I  will  sit  here.  Now,  sing." 

The  two  children,  with  that  delightful  indiffer 
ence  to  rank  and  station  which  constitutes  one  of 
the  charms  of  childhood,  sat  down  on  a  rustic  bench 
under  a  handsome  old  beech-tree.  Though  both 
were  about  the  same  age,  just  entering  their  teens, 
Josette,  who  was  the  younger,  would  have  made 
two  of  her  young  mistress.  She  had  already 
reached  her  growth,  apparently,  for  she  was  tall 
and  large,  and  her  splendid  physical  development 
was  well  set  off  by  the  picturesque  dress  of  the  Bre 
ton  peasantry.  Her  mistress,  on  the  contrary,  was 

37 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

small,  slender,  fragile,  undeveloped,  and  physically 
as  much  behind  her  maid  as  mentally  she  was  her 
superior.  A  greater  contrast  between  them  could 
not  have  been  imagined. 

"What  shall  we  sing,  mademoiselle?"  asked 
Josette.  "  Shall  it  be  The  Fox  Gallant?  " 

"  No,  we'll  sing  Toutouie,  la,  la!  " 

"  Very  we.l,  will  you  begin?  " 

"  No,  you." 

11  Very  well.     Are  you   ready?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  So,  then." 

Humming  the  air  for  a  moment,  the  two  voices 
broke  into  the  plaintive  melody  of  an  old  Breton 
cradle  song,  the  refrain  of  which  gave  it  a  title.  In 
default  of  a  rocking-chair — not  then  indigenous  to 
France — the  two  bodies  swayed  back  and  forth  in 
time  to  the  simple  lullaby,  or  berceuse,  the  wooden 
sabots  on  one  pair  of  large  though  shapely  feet  pat 
ting  the  ground  in  time  with  the  dainty  jewel-buck 
led  Louis  Quinze  slippers  upon  the  other.  The 
words  were  primitive  and  childish  as  befits  folk  song 
at  its  best,  and  more  especially  at  its  beginning  in 
the  cradle  song,  and  the  music  was  equally  so;  yet 
the  emphatic  word  was  repeated  at  the  end  of  each 
verse  with  a  long-drawn  cadence,  and  the  Toutouie, 
la,  la!  rose  above  the  branches  with  a  caressing  in 
tonation  which  a  mother  might  have  used  to  a 
child. 

Every  little  girl  is  a  potential  mother,  and  when 
she  plays  with  her  dolls  she  is  following  an  instinct 
everlastingly  feminine  and  as  old  as  religion.  The 

38 


The  Cradle  Song 

doll  is  the  outward  and  visible  expression  of  that 
incarnate  racial  idea  which,  through  the  sacrifices 
involved  in  reproduction,  leads  humanity  to  its 
greatest  height. 

And  so  the  song  was  at  one  and  the  same  time 
eternally  old  and  eternally  new.  The  rude  words 
were  perhaps  of  little  consequence  beside  the  idea, 
yet  there  was  a  significance  in  the  primitive  and 
poetic  phrases  of  the  common  people.  Poetry,  too, 
begins  with  children,  and  the  true  font  Pierian  is  the 
mother's  breast — 

"  Toutouie,  la,  la  !  my  little  child, 
Toutouie,  la,  la  /     Toiitouie,  la,  la  ! 

"  Thy  mother,  my  little  one,  is  here, 
So  hush  thee,  hush  thee,  baby  dear, 
Toutouie,  la,  la  ! 

"  So  htish,  my  lamb,  my  song  I'll  keep 
To  lull  my  little  one  fast  asleep, 
Toutottie,  la,  la  ! 

"  Thy  mother  s  life  was  dark  and  sad, 
Ere  thou  cam  si  to  make  it  glad, 
Toutouie,  la,  la  ! 

"  My  bird  thou  art  and  thou  canst  rest. 
Here  in  the  rose  tree  of  my  breast, 
Toutouie,  la,  la  ! 

"  Spread  not,  my  bird,  to  heaven  thy  wings, 
'  Tis  heaven  here,  when  mother  sings, 
Toutouie,  la,  la  !  " 

The  gentle  air  of  the  summer  morning  rustled 
the  leaves  of  the  old  beech-tree  in  a  not  inharmoni- 

39 


The   guiberon  Touch 

ous  accompaniment  to  the  melody  and  swept  the 
sound  into  the  dull  ear  of  a  drowsy  man.  Philip 
Grafton  had  forgotten  himself  in  the  great  bed  of 
the  large  chamber  above  the  beech-tree.  He 
lazily  opened  the  curtains  of  the  bed  as  the  sound 
came  faintly  into  the  room,  and  the  flood  of  light 
which  poured  upon  him  completed  his  awakening. 
He  lay  listening  a  few  moments,  and  then  rose  and 
leisurely  walked  to  the  window. 

It  was  a  heavenly  morning.  The  breeze,  laden 
with  the  sweet  fragrance  of  summer,  blew  softly 
across  his  face  through  the  casement.  An  enchant 
ing  garden,  which  might  have  boasted  the  supervi 
sion  of  the  famous  Le  Notre  himself,  lay  spread 
before  his  eyes.  Half  concealed  by  the  interlacing 
boughs  of  the  tree  he  could  detect  two  figures  be 
neath  the  window,  sitting  on  a  bench  under  the 
shadow  of  the  beech. 

He  watched  them.  They  were  singing.  That 
wild,  plaintive,  yet  primitive  chant  came  from  the 
two  little  girls  there.  The  deeper  contralto  tones  of 
the  peasant  girl  afforded  a  sweet  accompaniment 
for  the  girlish  treble  of  the  other.  The  birds 
twittered  in  the  trees  of  the  garden,  and  a  gay 
robin  on  a  branch  near  the  window  poured  out  his 
brave  little  soul  in  brilliant  bursts  of  song.  It 
was  a  chorus  of  nature  harmonizing  with  the 
natural  song  of  motherhood,  which  seemed  not 
inappropriate  though  issuing  from  the  lips  of 
children. 

"  Toutouie,  la,  la! "  What  was  the  queer  little 
refrain?  He  leaned  far  out  over  the  window-sill 

40 


The  Cradle  Song 


and  listened  to  the  singers.  He  was  wont  to  be 
awakened  by  the  creaking  of  the  timbers  of  a  heav 
ing  ship,  and  the  experience  of  this  morning  was  as 
novel  as  it  was  delightful.  It  was  interrupted, 
however,  by  a  knock  upon  the  door. 


CHAPTER  VI 

EXIT  DOLL ENTER  KNIGHT 

AT  the  sound  of  Grafton's  voice  directing  him  to 
enter,  Sergeant  Jean-Renaud,  who  was  accom 
panied  by  a  slender  youth  in  the  livery  of  the  house, 
opened  the  door. 

"  Monsieur  is  awake?  "  asked  the  sergeant,  step 
ping  over  the  threshold  and  saluting  respectfully. 

"  As  you  see,  sergeant." 

"  Monsieur  slept  well?  " 

"  Very  well." 

"  Monsieur  wakes  early." 

"  Yes,  that  song  there — "  pointing  to  the  win 
dow,  "  do  you  not  hear  it?  " 

"  'Tis  mademoiselle  and  Josette,"  answered 
Jean-Renaud;  "she  will  be  annoyed  to  think  she 
has  disturbed " 

"  On  no  account  tell  her!  Say  nothing  about  it 
to  any  one,  my  good  friend.  'Tis  delightful!  What 
sing  they?  " 

"A  cradle  song,  monsieur,"  answered  the  ser 
geant.  "  My  old  mother  sang  me  to  sleep  with 
that  song,  and  thousands  of  other  mothers  in  Brit 
tany  have  sung  it  as  well.  Toiitonie,  la,  la!  "  He 
caught  up  the  refrain,  and  in  a  deep  though  not 
unmusical  voice  hummed  the  air. 

42 


Exit   Doll — Enter  Knight 

"  Tis  a  pretty  song,"  said  Grafton. 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  but  if  you  are  ready  to 
dress,  I  have  brought  Anatole,  who  is  at  your 
service  while  you  are  a  pris — while  you  honour 
our  house,"  he  added,  with  native  politeness. 
"  He  will  serve  monsieur.  And  Monsieur  le  Mar 
quis  bids  me  say  when  you  are  ready  he  will  be 
pleased  to  attend  you  at  breakfast.  Monsieur 
realizes  that  he  is — is — while  he  is  within  the  walls 
he " 

"  I  remember  everything,  my  good  friend,"  re 
plied  Grafton,  "  within  the  walls  I  am  free,  outside, 
a  prisoner." 

"  Provided,  of  course,  monsieur  gets  outside," 
answered  Jean-Renaud  smiling.  "  Has  monsieur 
any  commands  for  me?  " 

"  None,"  replied  Philip  as  the  old  soldier  with 
drew.  The  deft  Anatole,  who  seemed  familiar  with 
the  habits  of  Englishmen,  quickly  arranged  a  bath, 
laid  out  a  uniform  from  his  new  master's  wardrobe 
— for  his  personal  baggage  had  been  sent  him 
through  the  kindness  of  de  Kersaint — and  then 
withdrew.  Hastily  Philip  dressed  himself — and 
yet  with  unusual  care,  by  the  way — and  descended 
to  the  hall.  Finding  the  door  open  he  entered  the 
garden. 

The  song  had  ceased  and  the  two  maidens,  the 
dolls  lying  neglected  in  their  laps,  were  engaged  in 
earnest  conversation. 

"  And  you  think,"  he  heard  the  smaller  say, 
"  that  he  would  be  my  knight?  " 

"  Mademoiselle,   he   is   there! "   exclaimed   Jo- 

43 


The   guiberon  Touch 

sette,  springing  to  her  feet  in  much  confusion,  as 
she  observed  Grafton's  approach. 

The  other  girl  turned  her  head  slightly,  saw  him 
advancing,  and  as  if  to  mark  the  difference  between 
the  mistress  and  the  maid,  rose  slowly  and  calmly 
to  her  feet.  In  spite  of  her  dignity  her  little  heart 
was  beating  furiously.  The  dolls  fell  neglected  to 
the  ground.  The  end  of  their  reign  began  that 
morning. 

Grafton  bowed  profoundly  before  her,  and  as 
she  returned  his  salutation  with  a  sweeping  cour 
tesy,  he  looked  curiously  at  her.  So  this  was  the 
Breton  rose!  She  was  a  small,  slender,  pale  little 
girl,  between  thirteen  and  fourteen  years  old,  and 
rather  delicate  in  appearance.  Too  old  to  be  play 
ing  with  dolls,  certainly.  Her  head  was  crowned 
with  a  mass  of  hair  black  as  a  raven's  wing,  which 
fell  down  her  back  in  a  heavy  braid  tied  with  a  scar 
let  ribbon.  A  pair  of  rather  long  arms  terminating 
in  long  slender  hands  stretched  from  her  immature 
sloping  shoulders.  Below  the  short  skirt  of  her 
dress  two  long  thin  legs  dropped  into  dainty 
slippers. 

Philip  was  something  of  a  connoisseur  and  he 
scanned  her  carefully  and  swiftly.  Her  eyes,  he 
thought,  were  good,  and  blue  he  could  see  in  spite 
of  the  downcast  lids — a  strange  combination  of 
black  hair,  pale  face,  and  blue  eyes,  unusual  but 
striking.  Her  hands  were  small,  he  noticed,  and  her 
feet,  even  then,  charming.  As  for  the  rest  that 
would  come  in  time.  She  was  a  maiden  of  much 
promise  he  decided. 

44 


Exit  Doll — Enter  Knight 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  said  respectfully,  "  have  I 
the  pleasure  of  addressing  the  Chatelaine  of  Josse- 
lin,  the  young  Countess  de  Rohan?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur,"  answered  the  girl  simply, 
lifting  her  eyes  to  his  as  she  spoke. 

He  started  in  surprise  before  their  deep  violet 
splendour — the  eyes  of  a  woman  in  the  face  of  a 
child.  Good  heavens!  They  were  glorious — de 
cidedly  this  was  promising. 

"  You  are  the  English  milord?  "  she  queried 
gravely. 

"  Neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  mademoi 
selle,"  he  answered,  smiling  at  her  frank  question. 
"  I  was  born  in  America." 

"  Ah!  "  cried  the  girl  brightening,  "  my  mother 
came  from  there.  Tis  a  great  land." 

"  The  greatest  the  sun  shines  upon,  mademoi 
selle,"  gravely  answered  Grafton. 

"  Except  France,  monsieur." 

"  Except  France,  little  lady,  since  you  are  here," 
he  returned  gaily. 

"  And  monsieur  is  not  a  lord?  " 

"  There  are  no  lords  in  America." 

"  Not  even  a  knight?" 

"  Not  yet,  unless  I  may  be  your  knight,  made 
moiselle." 

"  You  hear,  Josette?  "  cried  the  girl,  turning 
delightedly  to  the  other,  "  we  won't  have  to  play 
any  more  that  you  are  a  knight.  Monsieur  says  he 
will  be  my  knight.  So  few  gentlemen  come  here, 
monsieur;  we  see  no  one,"  she  went  on,  with  a  state- 
liness  and  ease  which  quite  belied  the  ragged  doll 

45 


The   guiberon  Touch 

at  her  feet,  the  Parisian  dolls  by  her  side,  the  short 
dress,  and  general  air  of  unformed  and  undeveloped 
womanhood  about  her.  "  Monsieur  le  Marquis  is 
here,  of  course.  And  Monsieur  de  Kersaint,  who 
was  a  friend  of  my  father's,  comes  sometimes,  and 
the  masters  of  the  dance,  and  the  masters  of  the 
music,  and  the  masters  of  the  art,  and  all  the  other 
tiresome  masters,  and  Jean-Renaud,  so  that  I  am 
glad  to  find  a  gentleman — Monsieur  is  gentile,  of 
course?  " 

"  I  hope  so,  mademoiselle.  I  trust  mademoi 
selle  may  find  me  so  at  any  rate." 

"  Monsieur  looks  so.  Is  it  not  so,  Josette?  " 
frankly  continued  the  child. 

"  Oh,  indeed,  yes,  mademoiselle!  "  exclaimed 
the  embarrassed  but  acquiescent  maid. 

"  I  do  not  doubt  monsieur's  breeding,  but  a 
maiden,  motherless  like  I,  monsieur,  must  be 
very  careful  how  she  takes  a  knight  without  find 
ing  out  all  about  him,  you  see.  Monsieur's  family 
is  old?" 

'''  Very  old,  mademoiselle,"  answered  the  young 
man,  smiling  at  the  little  comedy. 

"  Monsieur  is  an  American,  and  America  was 
only  discovered — let  me  see — 'tis  scarce  three  hun 
dred  years  since,  is  it  not,  Josette?  " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle,  certainly,"  answered  Jo 
sette,  still  agreeably  concurring,  although  she  knew 
nothing  about  it. 

"  But  my  family  was  English  long  before  that 
time,  mademoiselle,"  answered  Grafton,  "  and  Nor 
man  before  that." 

46 


Exit  Doll — Enter  Knight 

"  Oh,  you  are  part  French  then?  " 

"  My  heart  is  all  French,  at  least  since  I  have 
met  you,  mademoiselle." 

"  Now,  that  is  nicely  said.  You  are  tres  gentile 
indeed,  sir,  and  your  family  is  old — not  as  old  as 
the  de  Rohans,  though." 

"  Mademoiselle,  is  anything  so  old  or  so  beauti 
ful  as  the  de  Rohans?  " 

"  As  to  the  age,  monsieur,  there  is  no  doubt,  but 
as  to  the  other,  there  are  only  grandfather  and 
myself  left,  and  I  am  sure  he  is  not  beautiful,  though 
he's  very  wise,  and  so  good  to  me  that  I  think  him 
lovely.  As  for  me,"  she  regarded  herself  mourn 
fully,  looking  from  her  dainty  feet  at  her  long  bony 
legs,  her  flat  chest — she  even  seemed  introspec- 
tively  to  be  surveying  her  own  countenance  in  the 
mirror  of  her  memory.  She  shrugged  her  shoul 
ders  at  last,  and  Philip  interrupted  her  meditations 
by  saying: 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  think  you  charming." 

"  But  you,  monsieur,"  she  responded,  "  if  you 
are  to  be  my  true  knight  and  servitor,  must  think 
me  beautiful.  Knights  always  do  that  in  the 
books,  you  know." 

'Tis  an  easy  task  your  ladyship  lays  upon  me," 
he  replied  gallantly.  "  If  I  am  set  to  no  more  diffi 
cult  undertaking  than  that  to  prove  my  devotion, 
I  shall  be  lightly  treated." 

"  Oh,  of  course  I  shall  find  you  harder  things  to 
do  than  that.  I  can  not  have  a  knight  who  will  not 
do  great  things  for  me.  Now,  you,  monsieur," 
surveying  him  doubtfully,  "  are  not  so  large  as 

47 


The   guiberon  Touch 

— as — Jean-Renaud  or  the  Comte  de  Kersaint,  for 
instance." 

This  frank  remark  nettled  Grafton,  who  was 
rather  sensitive  as  to  his  size. 

"  But  you  will  find  that  I  am  very  strong,  never 
theless,  my  young  friend,"  he  said  rather  abruptly. 
"See!" 

He  stepped  forward,  and  before  she  knew  what 
he  intended  to  do,  he  seized  her  slender  waist  in 
both  hands  and  raised  her  easily  from  the  ground. 

"  How  dare  you!  "  she  screamed,  red  with  sud 
den  indignation.  "  Put  me  down  at  once,  sir!  I 
never  heard  that  Sir  Lancelot,  or  Amadis  de  Gaul, 
or  Bertrand  du  Guesclin  ever  presumed  to  take 
such  liberties  with  their  ladies!  They  worshipped 
them  from  afar,  sir!  But  I  see  how  it  is;  you  think 
I  am  only  a  little  girl,  and  I  won't  have  it!  I'd 
rather  have  Josette  for  a  knight!  "  cried  the  Chate 
laine  of  Josselin,  stamping  her  pretty  feet  and  re 
pressing  a  violent  inclination  to  burst  into  childish 
tears. 

"  I  humbly  beg  ,your  Highness'  pardon,"  said 
Philip,  amazed  at  this  outburst.  "  I  only  wanted 
to  show  you  at  least  how  strong  I  was,  in  order  that 
you  might  deem  me  worthy  to  be  your  knight.  I 
should  not  have  dared  to  do  such  a  thing.  I  see 
now  it  was  very  wrong.  I  humbly  apologize  to  you. 
Forgive  your  faithful  servitor.  Is  there  not  some 
way  in  which  I  may  atone — a  dragon  I  can  slay  for 
you?  " 

"  Now  you  are  laughing  at  me,"  she  said,  much 
mollified,  nevertheless.  "  There  are  no  dragons 

48 


Exit  Doll — Enter  Knight 

nowadays.  At  least  Josette  says  there  are,  but  I 
never  see  any.  But  must  knights  have  dragons?  " 

"  Not  necessarily,  I  believe,  although  they  are 
desirable;  but  am  I  forgiven?  " 

"  If  you  will  promise  never  to  do  it  again,"  she 
replied  in  her  loftiest  manner,  "  I  shall  overlook 
it  this  time." 

"  And  may  I  not  have  a  token  of  forgiveness?  " 

"  You  may  kiss  my  hand,"  she  said,  extending 
her  little  brown  paw. 

Choking  with  laughter  Grafton  bent  over  it, 
and  was  much  surprised  when  she  added: 

"  In  all  the  books  I  have  read,  monsieur,  the 
knight  always  kneels  when  he  kisses  his  lady's 
hand." 

"  What  would  the  ward-room  mess  on  the  Tor- 
bay  say  if  they  could  see  me  now?  "  thought  Philip, 
as  he  obediently  dropped  to  his  knees  and  pressed  a 
fervent  kiss  upon  the  extended  hand. 

"  That's  very  nice,"  said  the  delighted  girl 
naively,  "  I  am  so  glad  you  came.  We  never  have 
any  gentlemen  here — but  how  old  are  you,  mon 
sieur?  " 

"  Twenty-five." 

"Mercy!"  she  exclaimed  in  some  dismay, 
"  that's  almost  twice  as  old  as  I  am!  Perhaps  you 
are  too  old;  but  no,  you  will  have  to  do.  Now,  you 
may  rise,"  she  continued,  striking  him  gently  on 
his  shoulder  with  the  tips  of  her  fingers.  "  This  is 
my  royal — what  do  they  call  it?  Dear  me,  you 
are  so  stupid,  Josette,  you  never  know  what  to 
tell  me!" 

49 


The  guiberon  Touch 

"Accolade,  is  it  not?  "  answered  Graf  ton;  rising 
to  his  feet. 

"  Yes,  that's  it.  You  know  all  about  it,  too. 
Now  I  ought  to  give  you  something  for  a  gage 
d' amour.  Let  me  see — I'll  give  you  Toto.  Yes,  that 
will  be  excellent,"  she  added,  picking  up  the  doll. 

"  Well,  I  should  hardly  consider  it  an  appropri 
ate  token,  mademoiselle.  You  see,  ladies  do  not 
often  give  their  babies  to  their  knights.  Now,  that 
ribbon  on  your  beautiful  raven  tresses " 

"  Oh,  how  beautiful!  "  exclaimed  the  girl,  pull 
ing  off  the  ribbon.  "  Annette,  who  does  it  up, 
calls  it  an  '  awful  mop,'  but  you  are  ever  so  much 
nicer.  Are  all  knights  so  lovely?  " 

"  By  no  means,"  answered  Philip.  "  I  feel  that 
I  have  rare  abilities  which  fit  me  to  act  in  this 
capacity." 

"  How  beautifully  he  talks,  Josette!  "  said  the 
little  maiden.  "  Why,  even  Monsieur  le  Marquis 
uses  no  longer  words!  There!  "  she  cried,  fasten 
ing  the  ribbon  to  the  buttonhole  of  his  coat  as  she 
spoke,  "  now  you  are  my  true  knight  until " 

"  Until  I  take  you  away  on  a  pillion  to  the 
wars." 

"  Yes,  wouldn't  that  be  charming!  "  she  cried. 
"  But  now  you  must  tell  me  your  name." 

"  Philip  Grafton." 

"  I  shall  call  you  '  Sir  Philip.'  " 

"  That  will  be  delightful.     And  your  name?  " 

"  Is  Anne." 

"  I  shall  call  you  '  Lady  Anne.'  " 

$<  Yes,  never  forget  it.     I  am  going  to  have 

50 


Exit  Doll — Enter  Knight 

longer  skirts  in  a  year,  perhaps,  and  then  it  will  be 
more — real — you  know." 

"  Nothing  could  add  to  the  appropriateness  of 
the  title,  not  even  a  trailing  skirt,  and  I  constitute 
myself,  with  your  gracious  permission,  Lady  Anne, 
your  chosen  knight.  Oh  that  I  had  a  spear  and 
there  was  somebody  here  to  say  that  you  were  not 
the  most  beautiful  damsel  in  Brittany!  Perhaps,  Jo- 
sette,  you  would  like  to  dispute  with  me  that  title?  " 

"Oh,  no,  monsieur,  certainly  not!"  answered 
Josette,  shrinking  back  against  the  tree-trunk  as  if 
she  already  saw  his  spear  point  at  her  breast. 

"  Ah,  here  comes  Jean-Renaud!  "  he  continued. 
"  Well,  monsieur  sergeant,  will  you  break  a  lance 
with  me  in  honour  of  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan?  " 

"  Sir?  "  cried  Jean-Renaud  in  great  surprise. 

"  I  maintain  that  she  is  the  most  beautiful  lady 
in  Brittany." 

"  In  the  world,  Sir  Philip,  you  should  say,  unless 
there  is  some  beautiful  English  lady  who  has  your 
heart." 

A  shade  of  anxiety  swept  over  the  youthful  face 
at  this  thought,  which  was  at  once  dispelled  by  his 
perfectly  truthful  answer: 

"  There  is  no  English  or  any  other  lady  except 
you,  beauteous  princess." 

"  How  nice  that  is!  I  think  you  are  the  nicest 
knight  I  ever  dreamed  of." 

"  Thank  you.  Now,  Jean-Renaud,  shall  we  re 
pair  to  the  tilt-yard?  " 

"  Monsieur  mystifies  me,"  answered  the  old 
sergeant. 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

"  You     agree,     then,     that     mademoiselle     is 


the- 

"  Why,  monsieur,  we  are  all  devoted  to  made 
moiselle,"  responded  Jean-Renaud  simply.  "  Is  it 
a  game  monsieur  plays?  If  so,  we  are  all  her  servi 
tors." 

"  No,  no,  Jean-Renaud,  I  will  have  no  knight 
but  Sir  Philip!  "  cried  mademoiselle. 

"  You  seem  already  to  have  made  the  acquaint 
ance  of  my  grand-daughter,  Captain  Grafton,"  in 
terrupted  the  marquis,  turning  the  corner  of  the 
house  at  the  moment. 

"Acquaintance,  Monsieur  le  Marquis?  She  has 
done  me  the  honour  to  constitute  me  her  royal 
knight,  and  I  am  trying  to  induce  Jean-Renaud 
to  break  a  spear  in  her  behalf." 

"  Will  he  not  make  a  proper  knight,  grandpa, 
this  English  gentleman?  "  asked  Anne,  fluttering 
to  her  grandfather. 

"  Proper  knight  indeed,  my  child,"  answered 
the  old  man,  humoring  her  mood  as  he  fondly 
kissed  her,  "  and  I  congratulate  you.  Meanwhile 
let  us  descend  from  the  romantic  to  the  material. 
Breakfast  is  served.  Monsieur  Grafton,  will  you 
take  your  little  lady  and  precede  me?  C'est  bien" 
he  soliloquized,  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff  as  he  calmly 
surveyed  the  young  man  and  the  little  girl  walking 
ceremoniously  toward  the  door.  "  A  pretty  piece 
of  play.  I  shall  take  care  it  stops  in  sport.  The 
thorn  watches  the  rose.  Anne  de  Rohan  mates 
with  no  foreigner,  much  less  with  an  enemy." 

52 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN    THE    OLD    WATCH-TOWER 

GRAFTON  did  not  find  the  time  of  his  imprison 
ment  hang  heavily  on  his  hands.  An  only  child, 
whose  mother,  like  Anne  de  Rohan's,  had  died  in 
his  infancy,  he  had  been  early  sent  to  sea.  He 
knew  but  little  of  family  life,  therefore,  and  even  less 
of  children.  Through  his  connections  and  influ 
ence  he  was  not  without  some  acquaintance  with 
the  high  life  of  the  court  of  England — a  somewhat 
unusual  privilege  for  a  young  naval  officer — and  he 
easily  moved  in  the  first  circles  in  America  when  his 
duties  permitted  him  a  rare  visit  there.  Mingling 
in  this  good  society  he  had  acquired  an  ease  and 
manner  which,  added  to  his  native  breeding  and 
instinctive  dignity,  enabled  him  to  bear  himself 
gracefully  wherever  he  found  himself — but  he  had 
no  experience  with  young  girls  of  the  age  of  the 
young  countess. 

Fortunately  his  was  a  sunny,  lively  disposition, 
full  of  laughter  and  humour,  which  made  it  not  diffi 
cult  for  him  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  play  in 
accordance  with  his  new  friend's  fancies.  He  had 
been  attracted  in  some  strange  way  to  the  little  de 
Rohan  from  the  first  moment  he  had  seen  her — nay, 

53 


The   guiberon  Touch 

from  that  morning  hour  when  he  had  only  heard  her 
in  the  garden — and  the  romantic  friendship  which 
she  had  instituted  between  them,  and  upon  which 
he  had  entered  to  please  her  and  as  a  pastime  for 
a  prisoner,  unconsciously  assumed  a  permanent 
aspect. 

He  took  part  in  the  play  with  a  zest  which  sur 
prised  him,  and  the  more  he  was  thrown  in  con 
tact  with  the  strange  and  peculiar  mind  of  the  girl 
the  more  she  interested  him.  She  was  a  singular 
mixture  of  the  young  and  the  old,  the  very  childish 
and  the  very  wise.  She  stood,  as  it  were,  poised 
half-way  between  the  intellectual  level  of  Josette, 
her  playmate,  on  the  one  hand,  and  of  the  courtly  old 
marquis,  her  preceptor  and  guide,  on  the  other. 

She  was  too  old  to  play  at  dolls,  he  thought, 
too  young  to  play  at  love.  And  yet  she  had  done 
the  one  and  was  doing  the  other,  although  the 
"  adorable  Toto  "  had  been  neglected  of  late  for  the 
more  adorable  Philip.  Shrewdness,  wit,  and  com 
mon  sense  mingled  in  equal  measure  with  unbound 
ed  credulity  and  the  most  romantic  imagination. 
And  her  impetuosity  and  abandon  were  as  evident 
as  were  her  wisdom  or  her  innocence. 

There  were  no  dragons,  to  be  sure — at  least  they 
did  not  find  any  real  ones — but  the  two,  who  were 
left  greatly  alone  by  the  marquis  whose  many  duties 
as  vice-governor  of  the  town  took  him  frequently 
from  the  chateau  to  the  city  during  those  warlike 
times,  easily  evoked  mythical  ones  from  the  crowd 
ed  realms  of  their  imagination,  which  they  routed 
with  great  slaughter.  Anne  was  crowned  Queen 

54 


In  the  Old   Watch-Tower 

of  Love  and  Beauty  a  dozen  times  a  day,  and 
Philip  as  often  distinguished  himself  by  deeds  of 
daring. 

She  read  to  him  out  of  quaint  old  romances  and 
furtively  compared  him  with  bygone  heroes — not  at 
all  to  his  disadvantage  either.  They  discussed  sa- 
piently  of  love  and  chivalry,  the  girl  telling  him 
many  things  of  which  he  had  never  heard,  while  he 
unconsciously  gave  her  intimations  of  the  world  of 
the  present  of  which  she  was  so  ignorant — light 
touches  which  her  quick  mind  appreciated  and  wove 
into  the  fabric  of  her  dreams. 

And  in  all  this,  she — both  of  them,  indeed — did 
not  forget  to  be  children.  In  the  climbing  of  trees, 
in  the  running  of  races,  in  the  playing  of  games  of  all 
sorts  with  her  and  with  Josette — who  was  not 
a  little  scandalized,  by  the  way — for  rivals,  the 
young  Englishman  proved  himself  an  adept.  He 
had  not  had  such  fun  since  he  was  a  boy. 

One  evening  after  Grafton  had  been  a  week  a 
prisoner  in  the  chateau,  the  marquis  took  it  upon 
himself  to  discuss  matters  suggested  by  the  grow 
ing  intimacy  between  his  grand-daughter  and  the 
young  Englishman,  thinking  that  possibly  a  word  of 
warning,  an  intimation  and  an  assurance  might  not 
be  unnecessary. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  said  after  supper,  "  may  I  have 
a  few  words  with  you  this  evening?  Mademoi 
selle  Anne,  you  will  excuse  us,  I  am  sure,"  he  added, 
waiting  for  her  permission. 

The  old  man  was  most  punctiliously  courteous 
to  his  little  ward,  and  indeed  to  his  prisoner  as  well. 

55 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  walls  and  the  gate,  Philip 
would  never  have  known  that  he  was  a  captive. 

"  Certainly,  gentlemen,"  she  answered  with  that 
assumption  of  the  manner  of  the  grande  dame  which 
sat  so  easily  upon  her  immature  shoulders  and 
which  Grafton  so  delighted  to  see,  "  J  will  with 
draw." 

"  Not  so,  my  child,  pray  remain  where  you  are. 
Monsieur  Grafton  will  accompany  me  to  my  cabi 
net,  and  we  will  return  here  presently  if  you  will 
await  us." 

"  My  young  friend,"  said  the  marquis,  when  the 
two  were  alone,  "  you  may  have  noticed  that  this  is 
a  strange  house.  There  are  few  fathers  who  would 
permit  their  daughters  so  much  freedom  even  within 
these  walls  as  I  have  given  my  grand-daughter  the 
young  Countess  de  Rohan.  She  is  all  I  have  left, 
monsieur,  and  I  have  reared  and  educated  her  and 
shall  continue  to  do  so,  upon  a  plan  of  my  own. 
She  is  very  precious  to  me,  Captain  Grafton;  I  have 
humoured  and  indulged  her  even  when  she  wished 
to  play  the  old  game  of  chivalry  with  a  stranger 
whom  fate  brought  to  our  doors.  Perhaps  I  have 
done  wrong  here,  too,  but  she  is  only  a  child  as  yet. 
I  had — I  have  a  thought,  monsieur,  that  it  might  be 
good  for  her  to  meet  you  freely.  You  are  a  gen 
tleman,  and  of  the  world  outside,  of  which  I  have 
purposely  kept  her  in  ignorance — yet  she  must 
know  it  some  day."  He  sighed  as  he  thought  of  the 
contingency, and  after  a  little  pause, continued,  "She 
has  seen  but  few  gentlemen  of  her  own  station  in 
life;  myself,  Monsieur  de  Kersaint — in  short,  I  have 

56 


In  the  Old  Watch-Tower 

opened  my  house  to  you,  monsieur.  While  you  are 
a  prisoner — forgive  the  word,  my  friend,  with  you  I 
would  fain  forget  the  fact — it  has  become — what  is 
your  English  word? — Ah,  yes,  your  home!  Mon 
sieur,  she  is  my  only  grand-daughter,  my  most  pre 
cious  possession.  The  heart,  the  life  of  an  old  man 
are  bound  up  in  her.  I  have  trusted  you,  sir " 

"  You  shall  never  repent  it,  sir!  "  cried  Grafton 
impulsively.  "  She  is  charming  to  me.  I  have 
known  but  little  of  children  in  my  life  and  I  find  her 
delightful.  And  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  if  you  knew 
me  better,  you  would  know  that  I  would  rather  die 
than  injure  a  hair  of  her  head — of  any  child — of  any 
woman,  sir.  Tis  not  the  habit  of  America " 

"  I  know  you  well — better  than  you  think, 
my  young  sir,"  answered  the  old  marquis,  yet  in 
spite  of  himself  the  relief  in  his  tones  was  appar 
ent.  "  I  have  not  lived  in  courts  and  camps  for  so 
many  years,  dealing  with  men,  without  being  able 
to  judge  them.  And  because  I  know  you  I  have 
trusted  you  without  exacting  assurances." 

"  Yet  you  warn  me  now,  sir!  " 

"  Monsieur,  forgive  an  old  man,  'twas  for  your 
own  sake —  This  play  of  knight  and  dame — made 
moiselle  is  for  France.  She  must  mate  with  the 
highest." 

"  Monsieur,"  answered  Grafton  with  a  touch  of 
hauteur,  "  here  is  no  thought  of  mating.  'Tis  a 
child's  play.  Yet  I  would  have  you  know,  sir,  that 
my  family  is  among  the  oldest  in  England,  my 
estates  in  America  not  less  wide  than  these  of  the 
de  Rohans  in  France." 

5  57 


The   guiberon  Touch 

"  Enough,  Monsieur  Grafton,"  replied  the  old 
man  smiling,  "  we  need  not  discuss  the  impossible. 
Mademoiselle  is  a  child.  You  will  soon  be  ex 
changed,  I  hope — for  your  own  sake,  not  for  mine. 
I  shall  continue  to  trust  you  and  let  her  enjoy  her 
play.  "Pis  a  compliment  I  pay  you,  monsieur.  I 
know  few  young  men,  if  any,  in  France,  to  whom  I 
would  grant  so  great  a  liberty." 

"  I  honour  you,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  for  the 
privileges  you  have  permitted  me,  and  believe  me,  I 
shall  not  show  my  appreciation  by  any  base  in 
gratitude." 

"  Tis  well,"  returned  the  marquis,  "  let  us  re 
join  the  chatelaine." 

Thereafter  the  little  comedy-drama  between  the 
young  sailor  and  the  little  girl  was  resumed  with 
greater  gaiety  and  abandon  than  ever.  Grafton 
kissed  the  little  brown  hand  so  often  that  he  rather 
grew  to  like  it.  Every  day  brought  him  a  differ 
ent  love-token  of  some  sort  and  a  new  and  imagi 
nary  task  to  be  achieved.  But  Mademoiselle  Anne 
at  last  tired  of  simulation — the  most  obstinate  im 
agination  will  weary  in  the  end — and  determined 
to  endeavour  to  impart  a  touch  of  realism  to  the 
pretty  game. 

One  day,  therefore,  she  took  him  into  one  of 
the  rooms  of  the  high  tower,  the  keep  or  watch- 
tower,  the  oldest  part  of  the  chateau,  which  he  had 
never  visited  before.  There  she  told  him  a  tale  of 
one  of  the  ancient  ladies  of  Rohan  who  had  a  lover 
who  came  from  an  alien  and  antagonistic  family, 
who  gained  access  to  her  chamber  by  climbing  in 

58 


In  the  Old  Watch-Tower 

some  strange  way  the  wall  or  face  of  the  tower, 
until  he  reached  the  oriel  window  before  them.  He 
was  finally  caught  and  killed  by  the  lords  of  the 
house  on  the  threshold  of  the  very  room  in  which 
they  were  standing,  she  said,  and  she  wondered  if 
Sir  Philip  could,  or  would,  have  done  that  thing. 

"  Let  us  go  to  the  window  and  look  out,  your 
little  ladyship,  and  we  will  see,"  answered  the  pseu- 
do  knight  gaily.  "  I  am  a  sailor.  I  can  climb  al 
most  anything  that  any  one  else  can  ascend." 

Together  and  hand  in  hand  the  two  stepped  out 
on  the  little  balcony  overlooking  the  sea.  Just 
outside  the  oriel  window,  the  wall  of  the  castle,  fol 
lowing  the  coast  line,  turned  sharply,  making  a 
narrow  re-entrant  angle  where  it  joined  the  round 
tower.  The  tower  and  the  wall  were  built  of  rough 
stone  and  their  surfaces  were  much  broken  by  jut 
ting  projections.  The  wall  and  tower  sloped  slight 
ly  inward  from  the  base  to  the  top. 

Philip  gravely  surveyed  the  stone  surface  of  the 
weather-beaten  tower  sweeping  below  the  little 
platform  on  which  they  stood,  and  made  up  his 
mind  that  a  daring  climber  taking  advantage  of 
the  irregularities  and  projections  in  the  stone,  and 
favoured  by  the  slope  and  the  angle,  might,  if  he  had 
a  cool  head,  gain  the  balcony,  provided  no  one  op 
posed  his  ascent.  Indeed,  since  the  Baron  de  Croi- 
sic,  the  unfortunate  lover  of  the  legend  had  done  so, 
he  felt  sure  that  he  himself  could  accomplish  the 
feat — given  a  sufficient  incentive,  of  course.  At 
the  foot  of  the  tower  lay  the  little  bay  spoken  of 
before,  and  in  the  bay  a  small  boat  was  moored. 

59 


The  guiberon  Touch 

He  looked  again  and  more  carefully,  leaning  far 
out  over  the  wall,  and  with  the  trained  observation 
of  a  sailor  to  whom  the  minutest  indication  may  be 
of  paramount  value,  he  took  careful  note  of  the 
several  projecting  stones,  the  slope  of  the  walls,  and 
rapidly  mapped  out  a  series  of  movements  by 
which  the  feat  could  be  achieved. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  at  last,  "  it  could  be  done;  it 
would  be  difficult,  dangerous,  in  fact,  but  it  could 
be  done — given  a  sufficient  incentive." 

"  Am  I  a  sufficient — what  is  it  you  say?  I  know 
not  that  word,  I  think." 

'  You  are  incentive  enough  for  anything.  Shall 
I  try.it?  "  he  asked  lightly. 

The  Countess  Anne  leaned  out  across  the  cop 
ing  of  the  balcony,  and  looked  down.  It  was  in 
deed  a  giddy  height.  Her  brain  reeled  as  she 
gazed.  She  would  like  very  much  to  put  Sir 
Philip  to  the  test,  but  in  the  end  she  decided  not. 
He  might  be  killed,  and  that  would  be  a  bitter  end 
to  their  little  play.  She  recalled  that  Monsieur 
de  Croisic  had  been  thrown  down  there  after  he 
had  been  caught  in  the  tower.  The  height  was 
appalling.  She  was  too  fond  of  Sir  Philip.  So  she 
temporized.  She  was  woman  enough  for  that,  he 
thought.  Indeed,  he  realized  that  she  had  devel 
oped  marvellously  in  the  month  he  had  been  with 
her.  She  seemed  years  away  from  dolls  now.  He 
wondered  why. 

"  Not  to-day,  Sir  Philip;  some  other  time,  per 
haps,  but  not  now,"  she  answered  him  at  last. 

"  As  you  will,  Mistress  Anne,"  he  replied  indif- 
60 


In  the  Old  Watch-Tower 

ferently,  and  then  as  a  thought  struck  him  he  ques 
tioned  her:  "  Why  is  this  place  not  guarded,  or 
the  wall  smoothed,  so  that  no  one  could  climb  up 
again?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  was  guarded  once.  As  for  the  wall, 
the  story  I  read  said  that  the  lords  of  the  tower  left 
it  just  as  it  was,  for  they  thought  that  the  lesson 
they  had  given  poor  de  Croisic  would  keep  every 
body  away.  Would  it  keep  you  away?  " 

"  Not  if  you  were  here  waiting  for  me,  Lady 
Anne.  But  why  is  it  not  guarded  now?  "  he  per 
sisted. 

"  I  can  not  tell.  Nobody  knows  this  story  ex 
cept  myself  and  Josette  to  whom  I  told  it,  I  suppose. 
I  read  it  the  other  day  in  some  old  papers  I  found 
in  the  library  room.  I  doubt  if  even  grandfather 
remembers  it  or  he  would  lock  up  the  room.  Be 
sides,  what  need?  There  is  no  one  who  can  make 
use  of  it  now,"  she  answered  artlessly. 

But  it  came  into  Grafton's  mind  that  if  it  were 
difficult  to  climb  up  to  that  balcony  window,  it 
would  be  less  difficult  to  climb  down  from  it,  and  the 
idea  of  escaping  sprang  instantly  into  his  head. 
Indeed,  it  had  often  been  with  him,  but  he  had  seen 
no  way  whatever  to  bring  it  about  until  that  after 
noon,  that  very  moment  in  the  oriel  of  that  tower. 

Beyond  the  rocky  edges  of  the  shore,  to  sea 
ward,  the  horizon  was  dark  with  the  sails  of  ships. 
It  was  the  huge  fleet  of  Boscawen  lingering  off  the 
coast  in  the  vain  hope  that  something  might  draw 
the  French  out  from  Brest  at  that  time  and  a  gen 
eral  engagement  might  be  brought  about.  If  Graf- 

61 


The   guiberon  Touch 

ton  could  gain  that  window  at  night,  descend  the 
wall,  seize  the  little  boat  in  the  cove,  he  might  reach 
the  ships!  He  stood  in  abstracted  silence  gazing 
seaward  until  the  girl  laid  her  hand  lightly  upon 
his  arm. 

"  Have  you  forgotten  me,  Sir  Philip? "  she 
questioned  him  jealously;  "were  you  thinking 
of- 

"  Of  home  for  a  moment,  my  child,  of  Old  Eng 
land,  and  a  better-loved  shore  farther  away.  Those 
are  English  ships  and — but  never  mind,  we  were 
talking  of  the  lady's  lover.  Yes,  I  can  see  how  he 
might  have  come  up  the  wall." 

"  And  of  course  I  will  not  let  you  do  that  now 
because — but  would  you  do  it  for  me  some  day?  " 
she  asked  anxiously. 

"  Some  day,  perhaps,  I  shall  show  you,"  he  re 
plied.  "  I  could  do  harder  things  than  that  for  you. 
But  come,  let  us  seek  the  dragons  in  the  garden, 
beauteous  dame.  'Tis  a  long  time  since  we  have 
had  an  adventure  of  any  sort.  Call  Josette  for  your 
court,  and  after  the  battle  I  shall  crown  you  Queen 
of  Love  and  Beauty  again.  I  can  beat  you  down 
the  stair,"  he  added  as  they  raced  away. 


62 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   END   OF  THE   PLAY 

THAT  night  he  determined  to  put  in  practice 
the  attempt  to  escape,  the  first  definite  possibility  of 
which  had  come  to  him  that  afternoen.  Indeed,  it 
had  grown  upon  him  with  each  passing  moment. 
He  lay  awake  for  hours  after  he  had  retired  and 
Anatole  had  been  dismissed,  waiting  until  the  peo 
ple  in  the  chateau,  except  the  guards  at  the  gate  and 
the  watchmen  on  the  walls,  had  all  gone  to  sleep. 
And  for  a  true  knight  his  thoughts  at  least  were 
recreant,  since  he  dreamed  not  of  the  Lady  Anne 
but  of  freedom. 

Toward  midnight  he  arose,  dressed  himself 
quickly,  and  softly  stole  through  the  deserted  halls 
until  he  came  to  the  unoccupied  chamber  in  the 
round  tower.  No  especial  watch  was  kept  upon 
him,  no  guards  were  stationed  upon  the  tower 
and  but  few  on  the  seaward  side  of  the  chateau. 
Moving  circumspectly  he  had  met  no  one  nor  had 
he  attracted  the  attention  of  any  sleeper. 

He  stepped  quickly  through  the  great  room  to 
the  oriel.  He  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  balcony 
looking  out  to  sea.  It  was  a  bright  moonlight 
night.  Away  on  the  horizon  twinkled  the  faint 

63 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

yellow  lights  of  the  English  ships.  Far  below  him 
in  the  shadow  of  the  cliffs  the  waves  were  break 
ing  in  sullen  splashing  upon  the  splintered  shore. 
He  could  hear  the  rhythmical  persistent  beat 
of  their  tireless  assault  upon  the  rocks,  see  the 
white  water,  shot  with  phosphorescent  sparks, 
churned  into  foam  over  the  reefs  at  the  foot  of 
the  cliffs. 

He  hesitated  as  he  surveyed  the  scene;  although 
his  purpose  was  unchanged,  he  realized  as  he  had 
not  before,  that  his  undertaking  was  fraught  with 
the  greatest  danger.  He  might  reach  the  foot  of 
the  cliff  alive  or  he  might  not.  The  chances  were 
against  him.  Things  looked  differently  in  the  night 
time.  A  slip,  a  misstep,  a  fall,  and  death  would  be 
the  end,  death  on  the  rocks  two  hundred  feet  below, 
with  the  white  foam  for  a  shroud,  and  the  ebbing 
tide  to  bear  him  far  out  to  sea. 

Yet  he  must  needs  go  on.  But  as  he  made 
ready  to  descend,  his  thoughts  suddenly  went  back 
to  the  little  girl  who  had  been  his  playmate  during 
the  past  few  weeks.  He  had  almost  forgotten  her 
for  the  moment.  Was  he  a  recreant  knight  thereby? 
His  conscience  reproached  him.  Strange  as  it  may 
seem,  he  felt  a  keen  pang  of  regret  when  he  realized 
that  once  he  stepped  over  the  balcony  wall  and 
essayed  the  descent  he  should  be  parted  from  her 
forever.  In  death  or  in  liberty  they  would  be 
equally  separated.  The  little  Rose  of  the  Rohans 
— to  see  her  no  more!  The  thought  gave  him  a 
peculiar  feeling.  He  paused,  reluctant.  He  was 
surprised  at  himself. 

64 


The  End  of  the  Play 

The  little  maiden  with  her  mingling  of  child 
ish  innocence  and  womanly  charm  had  grown  very 
dear  to  him,  and  the  joy  he  anticipated  in  soon 
regaining  his  liberty  was  sadly  dimmed  by  the  cer 
tain  sadness  of  that  inevitable  parting.  Yet  the 
feeling  was  not  strong  enough  to  deter  him — then. 
It  was  deep  enough,  however,  to  give  him  pause. 
He  lingered,  thinking  swiftly.  It  was  duty  that 
turned  the  scale — duty  and  love  are  antagonists 
of  old. 

He  had  learned  something  about  the  French 
fleet  in  Brest  and  the  location  of  the  defences  in  the 
harbour  in  his  rapid  ride  through  the  town  when  he 
came  to  the  chateau,  and  from  his  frequent  although 
apparently  cursory  examinations  of  the  position 
from  the  towers  and  walls  he  had  learned  more. 
His  information  would  be  of  great  value.  He  was 
an  officer  of  the  King,  and  when  the  possibility  of 
escape  presented  itself,  at  all  hazards  he  must  make 
an  effort  to  reach  the  ships.  The  marquis  had 
spoken  once  or  twice  about  exchange,  but  nothing 
had  yet  come  from  it  and  such  matters  were  slow 
at  best. 

As  it  seemed  more  feasible,  as  the  possibility  ap 
proached  nearer,  his  desire  grew.  The  detaining 
image  of  the  French  girl  grew  fainter.  Duty,  lib 
erty,  freedom,  action — what  child  could  stand  in 
the  way?  Therefore  again  he  determined  to  at 
tempt  the  descent.  Yet  it  was  a  forbidding  under 
taking  now  that  he  had  settled  upon  it.  It  had 
seemed  easier  in  the  daylight  than  at  night  time. 
The  bend  of  the  wall  cast  the  corner  in  a  black 

65 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

shadow,  the  more  intense  on  account  of  the  bright 
ness  of  the  moonlight  beyond. 

His  mind  was  in  a  strange  turmoil.  Death — 
love — liberty — what  would  be  the  end?  Pshaw! 
He  would  think  no  more,  he  would  do  it ! 

He  climbed  up  on  the  stone  railing  of  the  bal 
cony,  turned  his  back  toward  the  tower,  slid  along 
the  coping  stone  until  he  could  feel  the  angle  be 
tween  the  walls  with  his  hand,  his  shoulders  touch 
ing  either  side  of  the  angle.  He  held  firmly  to  the 
coping  of  the  balcony,  which  he  determined  not  to 
let  go  of  until  he  was  sure  of  a  foot  rest.  Then  he 
stretched  out  his  right  leg  and  felt  about  in  the  shad 
ow  until  finally  his  foot  hit  the  first  projection.  He 
breathed  a  prayer  and  prepared  to  descend.  He  was 
glad  the  angle  was  in  the  shadow.  He  could  not  see 
what  was  beneath  him.  The  black  cliffs  under 
his  feet  hid  their  terrors  from  him.  He  intended 
to  try  it  with  his  face  outward,  his  back  in  the 
angle,  his  hands  and  feet  outstretched,  clutching 
at  or  feeling  for  every  inequality.  He  was 
about  to  let  go.  Another  moment  and  he  had 
gone,  when  he  felt  a  familiar  little  hand  laid  upon 
his  arm. 

"  Come  back,  come  back,  you  will  be  killed!  " 
whispered  a  small  frightened  voice.  He  was  so 
startled  in  spite  of  the  quietness  of  her  address  that 
he  nearly  lost  his  hold  and  fell.  He  recovered  him 
self,  however,  by  a  prodigious  effort,  and  aided  by 
the  girl's  nervous,  clinging  hands  he  drew  himself  up 
slowly,  and  swinging  his  legs  back  over  the  coping 
landed  once  more  on  the  solid  floor  of  the  balcony. 

66 


The  End  of  the  Play 

The  idea  of  disregarding  her  summons  did  not  once 
occur  to  him. 

"  Were  you  doing  this  for  me?  "  asked  the  girl 
innocently,  still  clinging  to  him  as  if  afraid  to  re 
lease  him. 

"  Mademoiselle  Anne!  "  he  cried  in  great  sur 
prise  and  annoyance,  "  why  are  you  here?  "  He 
was  trembling  violently  from  his  exertions  and  the 
tense  emotions  of  the  past  few  moments. 

"  Why  not,  Sir  Philip?  You  are  here  yourself, 
you  see,"  she  answered  unsuspiciously,  approach 
ing  him  and  laying  an  innocent  hand  on  his  arm  and 
looking  steadily  at  him. 

"  Yes,  but  I — come  into  the  tower,"  he  said 
drawing  her  back  through  the  window  into  the 
room.  How  her  eyes  gleamed  in  the  moonlight! 
What  depths  were  there,  what  unfathomable  mys 
teries  lurked  within  their  shadows!  He  had  never 
seen  them  so  before.  They  startled  him — those 
eyes  so  softly  tender,  so  deeply  blue.  And  the 
exquisite  pallor  of  that  face  framed  in  the  misty 
blackness  of  her  floating  hair — the  girl  was  beau 
tiful. 

Following  him  into  the  chamber  she  stopped 
unconsciously  where  the  moonlight  streamed  in 
through  the  window.  For  the  first  time  he  noticed 
what  she  wore  in  the  bright  illumination.  Appar 
ently  she  was  clad  in  her  night-dress  with  a  loose 
wrapper  hastily  thrown  about  her  shoulders;  her 
little  bare  feet  gleamed  like  marble  in  the  patch  of 
white  light  on  the  stone  floor.  One  hand  hung  by 
her  side,  with  the  other  she  instinctively  gathered 

67 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

the  wrapper  across  her  breast  with  a  movement  at 
once  modest  yet  charming. 

"Why,  you  are  in  your  night-robe!"  he  ex 
claimed  in  astonishment,  but  not  raising  his  voice 
for  fear  of  attracting  attention.  "  Your  feet  are  bare 
and  on  these  damp  stones!  You'll  catch  your 
death  of  cold!  My  dear  child!  " 

He  forgot  that  he  was  her  knight,  and  stooping 
down  lifted  her  slender  form  in  his  strong  young 
arms.  She  half-struggled  a  moment  and  then  ac 
quiesced.  What  was  he  to  do  with  her?  The  car- 
petless  room  was  bare  of  furniture  and,  save  for 
themselves,  empty.  He  hesitated,  stepped  into  the 
window,  sat  down  upon  the  low  sill,  and  set  her  on 
his  knee,  holding  her  firmly,  carefully,  tenderly. 
She,  too,  forgot  that  she  was  a  lady,  and  nestled 
against  him  as  any  other  child  might  have  done. 

"  Now  tell  me,"  he  whispered — they  spoke 
softly  all  the  time — "  why  did  you  come  here, 
Anne?  " 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  addressed  her  with 
out  a  title. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  answered.  "  I — my 
room  is  over  there,  you  know.  I  couldn't  sleep.  I 
was  thinking  about  the  Lady  Jehane  and  her  lover 
the  Baron  de  Croisic — and  about  you,  Sir — Philip." 
The  pause  between  the  "  Sir  "  and  "  Philip  "  was  a 
long  one,  which  sweetened  the  name  in  his  ears  as 
she  continued,  "  I  heard  a  sound  and  I  thought  it 
might  be  his  ghost.  So  I  came — I  hurried  too.  I 
had  no  time  to  dress." 

"  Were  you  not  afraid?  " 
68 


The  End  of  the  Play 

"  The  marquis  says  the  de  Rohans  are  never 
afraid.  I  didn't  like  it,  but  I  came  on  tiptoe,  and 
then  I  saw  something  black  outside  on  the  balcony 
and  I  walked  over  there.  I  was  a  little  afraid,  I 
think,  perhaps  because  I  am  part  American,"  she 
added  naively. 

"  Americans  are  never  afraid,  either,"  inter 
rupted  Grafton  promptly. 

"  Well,  anyway,  I  saw  it  was  you  and  I  was  not 
afraid  any  more.  And  I  watched  you  stand  and 
look,  and  then  I  saw  you  get  over  the  wall,  and  then 
I  was  fearfully  afraid— for  you,  Philip.  I  thought 
you  might  be  killed.  I  slipped  out  and  cau'ght  hold 
of  you,  you  came  back,  and  now  we  are  here — to 
gether." 

There  was  a  long  pause.  She  slipped  her  arm 
about  his  neck  and  held  him  as  if  she  feared  again 
that  he  might  fall.  He  scarcely  knew  what  to  say, 
so  he  held  her  close  and  kept  silent  until  she  spoke 
once  more,  drawing  herself  away  from  him  a  little  as 
she  did  so.  "  I  don't  think  knights  carry  their 
ladies  around  like  this,  do  they?  I  don't  think  it's 
quite  proper,  is  it?  But  these  stones  are  so  cold, 
and  I  forgot  my  slippers,  I  was  so  anxious.  Is  it 
all  right,  Sir  Philip?  " 

She  wriggled  her  pretty  little  toes  as  she  anx 
iously  sought  for  reassurance  from  her  admirer  and 
companion. 

"  Proper?  Of  course,  and  where  is  Josette?  " 
he  answered,  glad  to  get  back  to  the  form  if  not  the 
spirit  of  the  play. 

"Asleep,"  she  answered,  "the  great  stupid! 
69 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

She  doesn't  care  whether  there  are  any  knights  in 
the  world  or  not.  But  what  were  you  doing  here? 
You  have  not  told  me  yet." 

"  I — I — I  thought  I'd  try — the  tower,  you  know 
— the  wall — to  go  down." 

"  Yes,  and  was  it  for  me?  " 

For  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  lie  to  this  con 
fiding  and  innocent  little  girl. 

"  Lady  Anne,"  he  whispered,  "  it  was  for " 

But  he  did  not  seem  to  be  able  to  tell  her  the 
truth  either. 

"  Yes,  Sir  Philip,  it  was  for " 

"  For  freedom  then!  "  he  said  desperately. 

"  Oh!  "  she  quivered,  "  and  you  were  going  to 
leave — me?  " 

There  was  a  world  of  reproach  in  her  voice  and 
then  silence.  Presently  he  discovered  that  she  was 
weeping.  Her  small  frame  shook  with  subdued 
sobs.  The  sight  alarmed  him,  pained  him  deeply; 
he  could  not  throw  off  a  guilty  feeling  as  he  held 
her  closely,  trying  to  soothe  and  quiet  her.  He 
was  desperately  uncomfortable,  yet  the  scene  must 
be  ended  if  he  were  to  get  away.  He  could  meet 
her  in  laughter  on  a  common  ground,  but  sobs  were 
foreign  to  his  philosophy.  He  had  not  enjoyed 
experience  of  this  womanly  weakness,  which  is  the 
weapon  of  the  helpless,  and  he  was  powerless  before 
her  tears.  He  could  not  bear  to  see  her  cry,  and 
suppose  the  marquis  should  see  him,  what  would 
he  think?  Would  he  not  conclude  that  Grafton 
had  broken  faith  with  him?  And  yet  there  was  a 
passing  sweetness  in  the  situation  too.  He  had  no 

70 


The  End  of  the  Play- 
wish  to  terminate  the  interview;  he  forgot  for  the 
moment  that  he  intended  to  escape  that  night. 

"  Now,  my  dear  little  girl,"  he  began  at  last, 
"  it's  all  play,  ycu  know." 

This  was  a  most  unfortunate  statement.  All 
her  youthful  energies  had  been  bent  toward  the  ob 
literation  of  this  bitter  fact.  That  is  a  moment  of 
the  greatest  sadness  when  we  find  out  our  hardly 
maintained  realities  have  only  been  some  other  per 
son's  play! 

"  It's  been  play  all  the  time,"  she  sobbed  im 
pulsively.  "  I  knew  it  was  so!  I  tried  not  to  be 
lieve  it!  Josette  told  me  so,  and  I  said  she  was 
stupid;  but  she  knew  more  than  I!  You  have  been 
playing  with  me  from  the  very  first,  haven't  you? 
Let  me  go  back  to  my  dolls,  monsieur,  'tis  all  I'm 
fit  for." 

She  tried  vainly  to  break  away. 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  replied,  still  holding  her, 
but  utterly  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do  or  say, 
"  you  see  I- 

"  You  never  were  my  really  truly  knight,  were 
you?"  she  went  on  through  her  tears.  "You 
never  cared  anything  about  me;  you  were  just 
amusing  yourself,  weren't  you?  Making  fun  of  a 
foolish  little  girl.  Oh,  monsieur,  how  could  you? 
And  now  you  are  going  to  leave  me!  " 

"  Anne,"  he  said  at  last,  "  you  are  only  a  little 
girl,  and  I  am  a  grown  man." 

'  Yes,  I  remember  I  said  you  were  old  for  a 
knight,  but  you  were  all  I  had!  "  she  wailed. 

"  But  do  you  know,"  he  continued,  "  it  wasn't 

71 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

all  play  after  all — not  exactly — and  if  I  lingered 
there  on  the  balcony — if  you  saw  me  pause,  it  was 
because  I  did  not  wish  to  leave  you.  Tis  truly  so. 
Dear  little  lady,  little  playfellow  and  comrade,  I  am 
your  knight  and  will  be." 

"  And  is  there  no  other  lady  in  England  or 
America?  You  said  '  No  '  once,  but  was  it  true?  " 

"  It  was  true  and  it  is  true;  there  is  no  lady  in 
England  or  America,  or  anywhere  in  the  world, 
for  me,  except  in  this  little  corner  of  France,  and 
if  I  hesitated  about  going  away,  it  was  for 
you,  but  don't  you  see?  My  duty — I  am  an 
English  officer.  My  King  is  at  war  with  yours. 
I  must  go  back!  " 

"  You  love  your  country,  monsieur,  more  than 
— but  you  do  not  love  me  at  all,  do  you?  "  she  asked 
piteously. 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  he  answered  promptly.  "  I 
love  you  very  much  indeed;  you  are  the  sweetest 
little  girl  I  know." 

"  Oh,  the  marquis  loves  me  that  way,  and  Jean- 
Renaud,  and  Josette,  and " 

"  It's  different  with  me,  you  know.  Not  like 
that  at  all.  You  see,  men  do  their  duty  because 
they  ought  to,  and  they  love  people  because  they 
have  to." 

"  Do  you  have  to  love  me,  Sir  Philip?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  am  glad  to,  my  dear  little  girl.  I 
am  afraid  if  I  stay  here  any  longer  and  you  grow 
any  older — "  He  hesitated;  was  he  actually  about 
to  propose  to  this  child?  He  resumed,  rather 
tamely,  "  I  just  had  to  go  away,  you  see.  Now  let 

72 


The  End  of  the  Play 

me  go,  and  some  day  I  will  come  back  to  you 
and " 

"  Put  me  down,  monsieur,"-  she  said  gravely, 
with  one  of  those  swift  changes  of  mood  which  he 
had  often  noticed  before.  "  I  insist  upon  it! 
There,  you  may  go  now,  but  you  will  never  come 
back  to  me.  I  know  it.  You  will  be  somebody 
else's  knight,  and  I " 

Her  little  head  drooped  forward.  He  lifted  his 
hand  to  her  chin,  turned  her  face  upward  and  kissed 
her,  and  then  drew  her  nearer  to  his  breast  as  he 
might  have  done  a  little  sister.  Yet  it  was  not  such 
a  kiss  as  a  brother  might  have  given,  nor  was  it  a 
sister  whose  lips  met  his  own.  It  was  the  first  time 
he  or  any  man  had  kissed  her,  save  her  grandfather, 
whose  love  did  not  express  itself  in  frequent  ca 
resses.  She  was  but  a  child,  yet  something  thrilled 
and  leaped  in  her  heart  at  his  touch,  and  there  was 
a  faint  echo  of  her  feeling,  a  brief  response  to  her 
heart-throb,  in  his  own  breast. 

But  in  a  moment  she  broke  from  his  arms — 
never  again  could  he  hold  her  so  as  before.  She 
stood  and  looked  at  him  from  those  glorious  eyes 
of  hers,  and  time,  in  one  swift  moment,  in  the  meet 
ing  kiss,  wiped  out  the  difference  in  years  between 
the  two.  His  thoughts  changed  as  he  gazed  upon 
her.  A  new  idea  came  to  him.  In  a  few  years  she 
would  have  grown — why  not? 

"  Monsieur,"  she  said  at  last,  and  the  change  in 
her  was  evidenced  by  the  gravity  and  the  added 
dignity  of  her  manner,  "  you  have  kissed  away  the 
child.  I  am  a  woman;  you  can  not  go  now." 

6  73 


The   guiberon  Touch 

"  Why  not,  Mademoiselle  Anne?  I  can  love 
you — from  a  distance — for  I  swear,  child  or  not,  I 
love  you — and  I  can  come  back." 

"  Love  has  nothing  to  do  with  this,  monsieur, 
now;  I  am  a  French  woman.  You  must  not  go; 
you  shall  not!  You  are  a  prisoner.  The  marquis 
is  absent.  The  castle  is  mine  till  he  returns.  I 
am  the  chatelaine.  I  could  never  look  my  grand 
father  in  the  face  again  if  I  allowed  you  to  escape." 

"  And  how  would  you  prevent  it,  Mademoiselle 
Anne?" 

"  By  standing  in  your  way,  so!  "  she  answered, 
stretching  out  her  slender  arms  and  barring  the 
window  with  her  slight  figure.  "A  feeble  barrier, 
you  say;  yet  you  were  my  knight — even  though 
only  in  play — and  I,  at  least,  do  not  forget  it.  Gen 
tlemen  do  not  pass  to  freedom  over  the  bodies  of 
their  ladies,"  she  continued  quaintly. 

"Ah!"  he  cried,  looking  at  her  with  mingled 
pride  and  vexation,  "  I  could  brush  you  aside  in  a 
moment." 

"  But  you  would  not,  Sir  Philip,"  she  went  on, 
lapsing  into  the  old  style  of  address.  "  Besides,  I 
should  scream,  and  then — and  you  can  not  go  down 
those  rocks  at  night.  The  danger — it  would  kill 
me — the  thought  hurts  me  here." 

She  laid  her  hand  innocently  upon  her  heart. 

"  The  baron  of  old  did  it,"  he  answered. 

"  Oh,  yes;  but  he  went  for  love." 

"  And  I  for  liberty." 

"  And  is  liberty  stronger  than  love,  monsieur?  " 

"  By  Heaven,  Little  France,"  he  answered  im- 

74 


The  End  of  the  Play 

pulsively,  calling  her  by  a  name  which  she  loved  to 
hear,  "  I  know  not  if  it  be!  I  am  afraid  'tis  not, 
since " 

"  Since  what,  monsieur?  " 

"  Since  I  stay  here  with  you,"  he  replied  de 
cisively.  "  Now,  you  must  go  to  bed.  I  want  not 
your  death  upon  my  hands." 

He  stepped  forward  and  lifted  her  in  his  arms 
again.  She  weakly  protested,  but  allowed  it. 
They  both  felt  the  end  of  the  game  had  come,  yet 
for  the  last  time  she  indulged  herself.  To-morrow 
would  see — nay,  to-night  saw  her  a  child  no  longer. 
Yet  she  clung  to  the  spirit  of  the  play,  the  hardest 
to  be  lost  of  all  the  ideas  youth  cherishes. 

'*  You  promise  me  on  your  word  of  honour  that 
you  will  not  seek  to  escape  when  I  am  gone  to  bed, 
Sir  Philip?  "  she  asked,  nestling  against  him,  her 
arms  around  his  neck,  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  as 
he  carried  her  toward  her  chamber. 

"  I  promise  you,  Lady  Anne,  on  the  faith  of  a 
knight — your  knight." 

"  And  you  are  not  playing  this  time?  " 

"  Not  this  time,"  he  answered,  setting  her  down 
at  the  door  of  the  room.  "  Good-night,"  he  added, 
pressing  his  lips  as  of  old  to  the  little  brown  hand. 

"  I  trust  you,  Sir  Philip,"  she  answered. 
"  Good-night,  and  we  will  never  play  together  as  we 
have." 

"  Yes,  yes,  to-morrow!  "  he  cried  after  her,  as 
she  shook  her  head  sadly  and  disappeared. 

"  Good  God,  man! "  said  Grafton  to  himself,  as 
he  sat  down  in  his  room  to  think  it  over,  "  you  had 

75 


The  guiberon  Touch 

a  glorious  chance  for  liberty,  and  here  you  had  to 
indulge  in  theatrics  with  that  little  Rohan  girl! 
And  you  are  fool  enough  to  be  satisfied  with  the 
situation,  my  boy,"  he  soliloquized.  "  Are  you 
falling  in  love  with  a  little  chit  of  thirteen?  And 
yet  how  she  looked  when  I Pull  yourself  to 
gether,  man!  Tis  time  to  get  out  of  here 

Such  a  thing  is  preposterous — and  impossible  at 
best." 

And  yet  he  had  lived  long  enough  to  know  that 
it  is  always  the  impossible  that  happens  when  hearts 
are  under  consideration. 

Fortunately  it  was  only  the  next  morning  that 
the  marquis  came  home  with  the  welcome  tidings 
for  Grafton — or  were  they  unwelcome  after  all? — 
that  he  was  exchanged,  that  he  was  free  to  go  that 
instant  if  he  would. 

"  I  am  glad,  Sir  Philip,"  said  Anne,  weeping  as 
she  bade  him  good-bye  alone  in  the  tower-room, 
"  that  you  didn't  run  away  last  night.  You  will  be 
my  knight  in  earnest  and  come  back  to  me  some 
day?  You  promise  me?  " 

"  Yes,  in  earnest,"  he  answered,  smiling,  "  and 
some  day  I  shall  come  back,  I  promise  you." 


76 


BOOK   II 

FOR   THE  EMPIRE  OF  THE   WEST 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE  GENERAL'S  HEART 

FIVE  years  had  elapsed  since  Philip  Grafton  left 
the  Rose  of  the  Rohans  in  tears,  and  a  thousand 
leagues  of  ocean  now  divided  him  from  the  old 
Breton  tower;  five  years  filled  with  high  endeavour 
and  honourable  enterprise.  He  had  risen  to  the 
rank  of  post-captain  some  years  since  and  had  been 
successfully  engaged  in  his  profession  in  many  seas. 
His  father  had  died  meanwhile  and  he  was  alone  in 
the  world.  To  no  woman  among  the  many  who 
had  looked  love  in  his  eyes  had  he  given  his  affec 
tion,  and  his  friends  regarded  him  as  a  confirmed 
bachelor.  Was  he  still  dreaming  of  Anne?  It  is 
enough  to  say  he  had  not  forgotten  her — perhaps 
that  is  all. 

It  was  evening  on  the  twelfth  of  September, 
1759,  a  clear  though  moonless  night.  The  wind  fell 
as  the  sun  set,  and  the  ships  slowly  drifted  up  the 
river  with  the  heavy  flood-tide.  On  the  shore  to 
the  left  lay  the  camp  of  Bougainville.  The  white 
tents  of  the  soldiery  on  the  heights  of  Cap-Rouge 
could  be  dimly  detected  in  the  soft  illumination 

77 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

from  the  irradiating  stars  overhead.  Lights 
twinkled  here  and  there  on  the  heights,  or  moved 
along  on  the  crest  of  the  bluffs,  showing  that,  as 
usual,  the  French  were  on  the  alert  and  watchful. 

There  was  much  unwonted  but  subdued  bustle 
on  the  English  fleet  as  well.  Men  were  being  pa 
raded  and  mustered  on  the  decks,  arms  and  equip 
ments  looked  to,  ammunition  pouches  rilled  to  reple 
tion,  and  the  haversacks  and  canteens  of  the  men 
provided  with  food  and  water,  for  it  was  hardly 
known  when  and  where  they  would  get  anything  to 
eat  after  they  left  the  ships. 

Far  down  the  river  the  distant  lights  on  Cape 
Diamond  were  almost  hidden  in  clouds  of  smoke, 
and  the  muffled  yet  continuous  roaring  of  the  heavy 
guns  from  Admiral  Saunders'  ships  of  the  line  and 
the  batteries  at  Point  Levis,  with  the  answer  of  the 
French  from  the  works  at  Beauport  and  the  citadel 
of  Quebec,  told  a  tale  of  furious  cannonade.  The 
admiral  was  certainly  doing  his  part.  As  he  had 
promised,  he  would  keep  them  busy  at  his  end  of 
the  line. 

Four  bells  in  the  first  night  watch  had  just  been 
struck  on  the  fifty-gun  ship  Sutherland,  carrying 
the  flag  of  Admiral  Holmes,  commanding  the 
squadron  off  Cap-Rouge,  when  a  boat  was  seen 
making  its  way  through  the  water  approaching 
the  starboard  gangway  of  the  ship.  Hails  passed 
between  the  Sutherland  and  the  approaching 
cutter. 

"Boat  ahoy!" 

"  The  Porcupine!  "  promptly  answered  a  rather 
78 


The  General's  Heart 

small  man  in  the  stern-sheets  of  the  boat,  giving 
the  name  of  the  vessel  he  commanded  and  following 
his  reply  with  the  sharp  command,  "  Way  enough! 
In  bows!  " 

As  he  spoke  he  motioned  to  a  midshipman  who 
sat  beside  him.  Following  his  officer's  direction, 
the  helm  was  put  over  and  the  boat  swept  gently 
alongside  the  gangway,  the  men  unshipping  the 
oars  at  the  same  time. 

"  Leave  a  keeper  in  the  boat  and  let  the  men 
go  aboard  the  ship,"  continued  the  officer  rising, 
"  then  have  the  boat  dropped  astern.  You  will 
follow  me  on  deck,  Mr.  Robison,"  he  added,  as  he 
seized  the  manropes  and  ran  rapidly  up  the  battens 
to  the  gangway. 

"  Good-evening,  Captain  Grafton,"  said  the  offi 
cer  of  the  deck,  removing  his  cap  and  bowing  low 
to  the  newcomer  as  he  stepped  aboard.  "  The  gen 
eral  has  been  asking  for  you." 

"Ah,  good-evening,  Hatfield!  You  say  the 
general  is  waiting  for  me?  Where  is  he?  " 

"  In  the  cabin  yonder,  sir." 

"  That's  well.     Will  you  have  me  announced?  " 

"  Mr.  Giles,"  said  Hatfield,  turning  to  his  own 
midshipman,  "  present  my  compliments  to  the  gen 
eral  and  say  that  Captain  Grafton  is  here  to  see 
him." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!  "  replied  the  boy,  touching  his 
cap  and  springing  aft  toward  the  cabin. 

"  'Tis  a  fine  night,  Hatfield,"  remarked  Grafton, 
as  they  stood  waiting. 

"  Indeed  yes,  sir." 

79 


The  guiberon  Touch 

"And  a  good  time  for  our  enterprise.  I  believe 
it  is  set  finally  for  this  evening." 

"  I  believe  so,  sir.  The  orders  have  been  sent 
around  to  all  the  ships." 

"And  time  enough,"  responded  Grafton.  "  We 
can  not  stay  in  this  cursed  river  much  longer.  Win 
ter  will  soon  be  on  us.  Oh,  by  the  way,  you  have 
no  objections  to  my  men  coming  on  deck,  of 
course?  " 

"  None  at  all,  sir,"  answered  Hatfield.  "  Both 
watches  are  on  deck  in  anticipation  of  the  expedi 
tion,  and  they  will  disturb  no  one.  Let  them  go 
forward  and  make  themselves  at  home." 

"  The  general's  compliments  to  Mr.  Hatfield, 
and  will  Captain  Grafton  please  come  below  in  the 
cabin?  "  interrupted  the  midshipman. 

"  By  the  way,  Hatfield,"  said  Grafton,  as  he 
turned  to  follow  the  midshipman,  "  where  are  Cap 
tain  Rous  and  the  admiral?" 

"  Below,  sir,  in  the  admiral's  cabin,  supervising 
the  details  for  the  evening.  Do  you  go  with  them, 
captain?  " 

"  I  believe  that  I  am  to  have  charge  of  the  de 
barkation,"  answered  Grafton  heartily;  "  would  you 
like  to  go?  " 

"  Indeed  I  would,  sir." 

"  Very  well,  I'll  speak  to  Captain  Rous.  I  shall 
doubtless  see  you  again  in  a  few  moments." 

Presently  Grafton  entered  the  cabin. 

"  Ah,  Grafton,  glad  to  see  you!  "  said  a  tall,  thin 
man  seated  at  a  table,  who  appeared  to  be  very  ill. 
"  Prompt  as  usual,  I  see." 

80 


The  General's  Heart 

"  You  said  nine  o'clock,  general,  and  you  know 
we  sailors  can  be  quite  as  punctual  as  you  gentle 
men  of  the  army — wind  and  tide  permitting,  of 
course." 

"  Well,  captain,  I — but  stay!  You  will  excuse 
us,  Monckton,  and  gentlemen  all,  I  am  sure,"  said 
the  general,  turning  to  his  most  trusted  subordinate 
and  three  or  four  staff  officers  with  whom  he  had 
been  in  consultation,  "  I  have  something  of  a  pri 
vate  nature  to  say  to  Captain  Grafton,  and  with 
your  permission — no,  no,  keep  your  seats!  "  he 
added,  as  he  saw  them  rising,  "  we  will  withdraw 
to  the  inner  cabin.  You  see,  I  have  two  rooms, 
Grafton,  by  the  courtesy  of  Captain  Rous,  luxuri 
ous  quarters  for  a  soldier  in  the  course  of  an  active 
campaign." 

The  two  men,  bowing  to  the  officers,  who  re 
turned  their  salutations  with  elaborate  courtesy, 
withdrew  into  the  inner  cabin.  Motioning  the 
sailor  to  a  seat  the  general  sank  down  on  a  transom, 
rested  his  elbow  on  the  port-sill,  leaned  his  head 
upon  his  hand,  and  gazed  through  the  open  port 
toward  Cap-Rouge.  Grafton  did  not  presume  to 
break  the  silence. 

"  Philip,"  he  said  at  last,  turning  about  and 
leaning  forward  toward  his  friend,  "  we  try  it  to 
night." 

"  Yes,  James." 

"  And  you  are  to  have  charge  of  the  boats." 

"  Thank  you  for  that." 

"  I  wanted  a  good  man  upon  whom  I  could  de 
pend.  There  must  be  no  miscarriage  here  if  we  can 

81 


The   guiberon  Touch 

help  it.  Tis  our  last  chance.  You  saw  Admiral 
Saunders,  as  I  requested?  " 

"  Yes,  and  he  delays  sailing  for  a  short  time 
longer,  though  he  takes  a  great  risk." 

"  A  noble  fellow! "  exclaimed  the  young 
general  heartily.  "  If  we  fail  to  take  the  town,  I 
will  ever  bear  testimony  that  our  want  of  success 
was  not  due  to  any  lack  of  co-operation  on  his 
part." 

"  Shall  we  succeed,  think  you,  Wolfe?  "  asked 
Grafton. 

"  What  think  you  of  the  prospects  your 
self?  " 

"  I  am  a  sailor,  I  know  little  of  such  things. 
Give  me  the  deck  of  a  ship  and  I  am  at  home.  I 
fear  nothing  there — unless  it  be  a  lee-shore — but  on 
land  I  prefer  your  views." 

"  Shall  we  fail?  God  knows! "  murmured 
Wolfe  softly,  half  soliloquizing.  "  I  tried  to  turn 
their  flank  on  the  Montmorenci  and  failed  there. 
I  tried  a  direct  attack  on  the  Beauport  lines  and 
failed  again.  This  time  I  know  not.  The  path's 
a  poor  one  at  best.  A  hundred  men  at  the  top 
might  hold  an  army."  There  was  another  silence. 
"  Fail!  "  he  said  suddenly,  as  if  awakened  from  a 
dream.  "  Of  course  not!  We  shall  not  fail!  We 
can't  fail!  Philip,  I  must  have  Quebec!  And 
now,  at  that!  'Tis  our  last  chance,  and  mine!  'Tis 
sure  a  hard  fate,  but  this  body  of  mine  is  done  for. 
I  may  last  for  a  few  days  longer,  but  my  race  is 
about  run." 

"  Don't  say  that,  James!  "  exclaimed  his  boy- 
82 


The  General's  Heart 

hood  friend,  protesting  even  against  the  bitter  as 
surance  in  his  heart  of  the  truth  of  the  dying  sol 
dier's  words.* 

"  It  isn't  the  saying,  old  friend,  but  the  fact,  that 
makes  it  hard  to  bear — and  'tis  true.  This  poor 
frail  body  is  not  equal  to  the  demands  I  have 
made  upon  it.  If  it  carry  me  through  to-night 
and  to-morrow  I  shall  say  naught.  Death  may 
have  its  way.  Peace,  Philip!  I  know  what  you 
would  say,  but  I  know  myself  'tis  useless.  I  want 
to  strike  one  good  blow  for  old  England  before  I 
go.  I  should  like  to  see  the  Cross  of  St.  George 
floating  above  Cape  Diamond  before — but  we 
shall  see.  Stobo  says  the  path  is  practicable. 
He's  a  canny  Scot  and  should  know  what  he's  talk 
ing  about.  I  have  examined  it  carefully  as  we 
floated  past  it,  and  I  believe  that  we  can  get  up. 
Once  let  me  get  on  those  plains  and  I  interpose 
between  Montcalm  and  his  base  of  supplies.  He 
must  fight,  retreat,  or  surrender." 

"  Tis  easy  to  tell,"  answered  Grafton,  "  what  he 
will  do  then." 

"  Quite.  He  is  a  splendid  soldier,  as  many  of 
our  poor  fellows  have  cause  to  know — and  a  fighter 
always.  I  honour  him." 

"  But  suppose  you  get  caught  between  Mont- 
calm  and  Bougainville's  men  from  Cap-Rouge, 
Wolfe?  " 

"  The  chances  for  their  arriving  on  the  field  to 
gether  are  very  remote,  and  we  must  crush  the  one 
who  first  makes  his  appearance.  Then  we  can 
easily  deal  with  the  other." 

83 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

"  Have  you  issued  all  the  necessary  orders?  " 

"All." 

"  Have  you  thought  of  everything?  " 

"  Everything  but  defeat.  The  men  are  to  enter 
the  boats  about  eleven  o'clock,"  he  continued. 
"  They  are  to  row  up  the  river  as  if  to  make  a  land 
ing  at  Cap-Rouge  and  then  return  to  the  ships. 
When  the  tide  turns  and  the  ebb  begins  they  are  to 
drop  silently  down  the  river.  The  ships  will  fol 
low  after  an  hour's  interval.  The  boats  will  land 
the  men  at  the  designated  point,  and  then  go  across 
to  the  other  side  and  ferry  over  Burton's  troops, 
who  will  have  marched  there  before  this,  I  presume. 
Those  are  your  orders,  Grafton." 

"  What  then?  " 

"  Then  we  will  bide  the  issue.  'Tis  a  desperate 
hazard." 

"  Ay,  desperate  indeed." 

"  We  play  for  a  great  stake,  Grafton,  and  for 
tune  has  been  so  hard  to  us  perhaps  the  tide  may 
turn  and  luck  may  serve." 

"  You  are  too  wise  a  man  to  be  lucky,  Wolfe," 
responded  the  naval  officer. 

"  Well,  perhaps  the  luck  will  be  with  England, 
then.  In  fact,  it  is.  Two  deserters  from  Cap- 
Rouge  have  apprised  us  that  a  flotilla  of  provision 
boats  is  to  be  sent  down  to  Quebec  to-night.  We 
will  be  that  flotilla." 

"  Yes,"  laughed  Grafton,  "  and  give  the  French 
such  a  breakfast  as  they  will  find  it  difficult  to  di 
gest,  I'll  warrant." 

"  Quite  so,"  said  Wolfe  smiling.  "  But  now  that 
84 


The  General's  Heart 

you  have  your  official  instructions,  Philip,  there  is 
another  thing  I  want  you  to  do  for  me." 

"Anything  on  earth,  old  friend." 

"  I  know  that,  I  know  that,"  answered  the  sol 
dier.  "  You  have  always  been  a  friend  to  me  since 
we  were  boys  together  in  old  England.  No  one 
could  be  truer  or  better  than  you  have  been." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right!  "  answered  Grafton  has 
tily,  with  the  Anglo-Saxon  inclination  to  the  avoid 
ance  of  a  scene.  "  We  have  been  friends  since  my 
father  sent  me  to  the  English  school,  where  we  met. 
I  was  a  little  colonial  lad  from  Massachusetts,  and 
mighty  lonely  I  was,  Jimmie,  until  you  took  me 
up  and  championed  me." 

"  But  you  fought  your  own  battles,  Phil." 

"  You  saw  that  I  had  fair  play,  anyway.  I'll 
.tell  you  what  it  is,  Wolfe,  if  your  body  only  equalled 
your  spirit,  what  a  knight  you  would  have  been!  " 

"Well,  it's  about  that  body  that  I  want  to 
speak.  As  I  told  you,  I  am  doomed.  I  shall  never 
get  back  to  England  alive;  the  sickness  upon  me  is 
mortal.  The  physicians  have  said  so,  and  I  feel  that 
it  is  true.  Look  at  me,  you  can  see  for  yourself! 
If  it  were  not  for  the  fight  I  should  be  on  my  back 
now,  and  if  I  have  to  die  I'd  rather  do  it  on  the 
field  yonder — after  we  have  won,  of  course — but 
that's  as  God  pleases.  This  is  what  I  want  you 
to  do." 

As  he  spoke  the  young  general  unbuttoned  his 
waistcoat,  loosened  his  tie,  and  drew  from  his  neck 
a  little  gold  chain  to  which  was  attached  a  golden 
locket  inclosed  in  a  tight  leather  case.  He  slipped 

85 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

the  chain  over  his  head,  drew  the  locket  from  the 
case,  opened  it  and  held  it  toward  the  light.  He 
looked  long  and  earnestly  at  the  picture  it  con 
tained — the  portrait  of  a  young  and  lovely  woman. 
Observing  that  his  friend  had  considerately  turned 
his  head,  he  raised  it  softly  to  his  lips.  A  single 
tear  fell  upon  the  ivory  miniature  as  he  closed  the 
locket,  slipped  it  back  in  the  leather  case  and  ex 
tended  it  to  Grafton.  Deep  tribute  of  affection  lies 
in  the  tear  of  a  soldier — of  a  soldier  like  Wolfe. 

"  When  you  get  back  to  England,  old  friend," 
he  said  slowly,  "  I  want  you  to  give  this  to  Katha 
rine  Lowther,  and  tell  her  how,  the  night  before  I 
— before  the  battle,  I  mean,  I  gave  it  to  you  in  the 
cabin  of  the  ship,  and  how  I  loved  her  to  the  end. 
I  have  sent  my  farewells  to  my  mother  and  the  rest 
by  some  who  know  them,  but  I  lay  this  last  duty 
upon  you.  Nay,  man,  slip  it  around  your  neck. 
'Twill  not  hurt  Kitty,  'twould  not  hurt  any  girl 
to  have  her  portrait  worn  against  so  honest  a  man's 
heart.  And — "  he  hesitated,  "  don't  mention  this 
to  any  one,  and  see  that  it  does  not  leave  your  per 
son  until  you  give  it  to  her.  Now,  Philip,  we  must 
go.  Your  hand,  old  friend,  and  good-bye." 

"  God  bless  you,  Jim,"  answered  Philip,  his 
voice  choking  with  emotion.  "  On  my  word  I  will 
tell  no  one  of  it,  and  no  one  shall  see  it  or  know  it 
until  I  give  it  to  Miss  Lowther.  I  pledge  you,  old 
friend.  But  I  won't  say  good-bye.  I  hope  to  con 
gratulate  you  to-morrow — in  Quebec." 


86 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    BEGINNING    OF   THE    HAZARD 

Six  bells  were  striking  on  the  Sutherland  as 
Wolfe  and  Grafton  came  out  of  the  cabin.  As  the 
sound  of  the  mournful  couplets  rang  out  through 
the  night  the  bells  of  the  other  vessels  caught  up 
the  slow  refrain  and  the  sound  was  repeated  from 
ship  to  ship  over  the  dark  river.  The  character  of 
the  night  had  changed  slightly.  Faint  clouds  were 
drifting  athwart  the  star-lit  heavens,  and  there  were 
heavy  banks  to  the  southward  which  looked  like 
rain. 

"  Will  you  show  the  signals,  Admiral  Holmes?  " 
asked  Wolfe,  as  he  stepped  on  deck.  "  We  are  all 
ready,  I  believe,  sir." 

"  Very  well,  general,"  responded  the  admiral, 
turning  to  Captain  Rous  and  giving  him  an  order. 
A  moment  later  two  lanterns  were  hoisted,  one 
above  the  other,  at  the  spanker-gaff  end.  The 
signal  was  immediately  repeated  throughout  the 
squadron.  Shrill  whistles  rang  out  as  the  boat 
swain's  mates  of  the  different  ships  bawled  out 
hoarse  commands. 

Instantly  the  soldiers  and  sailors  came  swarming 
to  their  stations. 

87 


The  guiberon  Touch 

"  Colonel  Howe,"  said  General  Wolfe,  address 
ing  an  officer  of  the  light  infantry,  who  appeared 
at  the  head  of  his  men,  "  after  you  have  mustered 
your  battalion  will  you  explain  to  them  that  I  have 
designated  them  to  lead  the  way  in  the  attack  to 
night?  Choose  a  forlorn  hope  of  twenty-four  men 
to  scale  the  heights,  sir." 

"'Tis  an  honour  indeed,  sir,  and  I  thank  you," 
answered  the  young  officer,  smiling  with  pleasure. 
"  I  myself  will  lead  them." 

"  I  expected  as  much  of  you.  Captain  Graf- 
ton,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  sailor  and  resuming 
the  formal  method  of  public  address,  "  will  you  see 
that  your  flotilla  of  boats  is  ready  to  receive  my 
men?" 

"  I  know  it  is,  sir,  but  I  will  look  again,"  an 
swered  Grafton.  "  Captain  Rous,  may  I  take  Lieu 
tenant  Hatfield  in  my  boat  to  assist  me?  " 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Rous,  a  veteran  sailor. 

Followed  by  the  delighted  officer,  Grafton 
sprang  to  the  gangway  and  called  for  his  gig. 
Meanwhile  Howe  was  addressing  the  light  infantry. 
When  he  called  for  volunteers  every  man  respond 
ed,  and  it  was  difficult  to  make  selection  of  the  re 
quired  number.  Presently,  upon  Grafton's  assur 
ance  that  all  was  ready,  the  men  slowly  filed  down 
over  the  side  and  took  their  places  in  the  boats. 
Taking  his  own  boat  the  captain  rowed  from  ship 
to  ship,  finding  that  all  preparations  had  been  made 
everywhere,  and  that  boats  filled  with  men  and 
manned  by  stout  seamen  were  already  clustered 
under  the  lee  of  the  ships  where  they  could  be 

88 


The  Beginning  of  the  Hazard 

screened  from  the  observation  of  the  French  at  Cap- 
Rouge. 

By  twelve  o'clock,  midnight,  the  embarkation 
had  been  completed,  and  as  it  was  nearing  the  end 
of  the  flood  the  boats  slowly  put  off  from  the  ships 
and  headed  for  Cap-Rouge,  General  Monckton  be 
ing  in  charge  and  Wolfe  remaining  on  the  Suther 
land  for  the  present. 

The  flotilla  approached  close  enough  to  Cap- 
Rouge  thoroughly  to  awaken  the  attention  of  the 
troops  of  Bougainville,  who  sprang  to  their  arms  in 
expectation  of  the  threatening  attack.  But  the 
advance  was  stopped  before  they  were  near  enough 
to  engage.  After  some  little  manoeuvring  off 
the  shore,  the  boats,  as  if  deterred  by  the  prompt 
ness  of  the  French  soldiery,  rowed  back  to  the 
ships  and  sheltered  themselves  under  the  lee  of 
their  broadsides  again  where  they  could  not 
be  seen.  Once  there,  the  men,  without  going 
aboard  the  ships,  waited  patiently  for  the  turning 
of  the  tide. 

At  four  bells  in  the  mid-watch,  or  two  o'clock  on 
the  morning  of  the  thirteenth,  Wolfe  entered  the 
heavy  cutter  which  Grafton  had  exchanged  for  his 
gig,  and  gave  the  signal  to  shove  off.  Following 
the  general's  boat  came  the  boats  of  the  light  in 
fantry,  and  after  them  the  rest  of  the  flotilla. 

It  was  darker  than  ever.  The  sky  was  filled 
with  light  fleecy  clouds  drifting  rapidly  across  the 
stars,  their  wild  motion,  driven  as  they  were  by 
some  upper  current  of  air,  only  accentuating  the 
stillness  on  the  water.  Hugging  the  opposite 
7  89 


The  guiberon  Touch 

shore  for  a  time  the  boats  floated  silently  down  the 
river  with  the  young  ebb.  As  they  appeared  to 
be  unnoticed  from  the  camp  at  Cap-Rouge  and  as 
their  manoeuvres  excited  no  attention,  oars  were 
broken  out  and  the  boats  crossed  to  the  Quebec 
side,  the  seamen  rowing  gently  as  they  passed  rap 
idly  down  the  river. 

The  men  had  received  strict  orders  and  they  sat 
in  the  cutters  and  bateaux,  which  had  been  pro 
vided  to  supplement  the  ships'  boats,  in  silence, 
broken  only  here  and  there  by  a  whispered  word  or 
two  among  the  officers  aft  or  by  the  muffled  rattle 
of  the  oars  in  the  row-locks.  The  ebb  was  running 
stronger  now  and,  with  the  current,  but  little  work 
was  necessary  to  enable  them  to  reach  the  desired 
point  in  good  time. 

Wolfe,  wrapped  in  a  boat-cloak,  for  the  air  had 
grown  chill,  sat  in  the  stern-sheets  of  Grafton's 
boat,  half-reclining,  his  long  legs  stretched  out 
before  him.  Grafton  himself  held  the  tiller.  Mid 
shipman  Robison,  Lieutenant  Hatfield  of  the 
Sutherland,  General  Monckton,  and  one  or  two 
staff  officers,  made  up  the  party. 

Forward  in  the  boat  sat  Captain  Stobo,  who  had 
discovered  the  whereabouts  of  the  landing-place 
while  a  prisoner  at  Quebec,  and  who  had  under 
taken  to  pilot  them  in.  By  his  side  was  a  Scots 
man,  an  officer  of  Frazer's  Highlanders,  who,  in 
the  Jacobite  court  of  the  Stuarts  in  France,  had 
learned  to  speak  French  fluently.  He  had  recently 
given  his  allegiance  to  King  George  and  was  to 
serve  him  well  that  night.  Wolfe  respected  his 

90 


The  Beginning  of  the  Hazard 

own  orders  and  said  but  little  as  they  floated  down 
the  stream  past  the  black  frowning  cliffs  and  the 
tree-clad  hills. 

There  was  a  young  man  living  in  England  then, 
named  Thomas  Gray,  who  was  a  great  friend  of 
Wolfe's;  and  a  certain  piece  of  poetry  which  he  had 
written,  and  which  was  beginning  to  be  much 
thought  of  there — and  much  more  thought  of  since 
— came  into  the  mind  of  the  soldier  as  they  drifted 
down  the  river.  Perhaps  he  mused  on  the  inevi 
table  conclusion  personally  before  him;  perhaps, 
by  one  of  these  strange  premonitions  which  seem 
sometimes  to  visit  those  doomed  to  die,  there  may 
have  flashed  before  his  mind  in  that  still  hour  a  vi 
sion  of  his  triumph  and  of  his  end;  the  dawn  already 
beginning  with  pale  grayness  "  to  lace  the  east  " 
may  have  brought  to  his  mind  the  "  breezy  call  of 
incense-breathing  morn,"  and  have  suggested  the 
poem.  At  any  rate,  he  broke  the  silence  by  re 
peating  some  of  the  mystic,  mournful  lines.  He 
spoke  in  a  low  whisper,  half-soliloquizing,  yet  all  in 
the  boat  could  hear  him. 

The  night,  the  silence,  the  broad  bosom  of  the 
noble  river,  the  towering  cliffs  close  at  hand,  all 
impressed  the  intent  listeners.  Most  of  them  were 
blunt  soldiers  or  sailors,  men  bred  to  the  profession 
of  arms,  who  lived  the  hard  life  of  the  army  or  navy 
in  that  rude  day,  who  cared  but  little  for  the  finer 
•arts  and  graces  of  life;  yet  the  impressiveness  of  the 
moment,  the  fancy  of  it,  the  pregnant  future,  the 
mystery  of  to-morrow,  their  desperate  hazard, 
caught  hold  of  them  in  some  strange  way.  With 


The  guiberon  Touch 

bated  breath  they  listened  to  the  voice  of  the  young 
general,  which  sounded  prophetic  even  to  them,  as 
he  quoted: 

"  The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  power, 

And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth  e'er  gave, 
Await  alike  the  inevitable  hour — 

The  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave." 

As  the  words  fell  from  his  lips  he  stopped,  as  if 
startled  by  their  significance. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  would  rather 
have  written  that  poem  than  take  Quebec." 

He  was  silent  again  for  a  little  space  after  this 
surprising  declaration.  No  one  broke  the  reverie 
in  which  the  general  seemed  plunged  after  that,  and 
before  he  spoke  again  a  voice  called  out  from  the 
black  mass  of  the  shore: 

"  Qui  vivel " 

It  was  the  old  cry  of  the  soldiers  of  France;  the 
bold  demand  with  which,  as  of  yore,  they  met  their 
ancient  foes,  rang  sharply  over  the  waters  through 
the  night. 

"  France!  "  promptly  replied  the  Jacobite  in  the 
bow,  with  ready  presence  of  mind. 

"  A  quel  regiment!  "  called  the  hidden  sentry. 

"  De  la  Reine! "  was  the  reply  in  excellent 
French. 

It  was  the  name  of  one  of  the  regiments  known 
to  be  with  Bougainville.  So  far  the  conversation 
had  been  easy,  but  if  the  Frenchman  asked  more,  if 
he  demanded  the  password — what  then?  The  men 
in  the  boat  held  their  breath  as  they  drifted  on,  but 

92 


The  Beginning  of  the  Hazard 

the  unseen  watcher  was  satisfied,  apparently,  for  he 
said  nothing  more. 

"  This  augurs  well  for  our  success,"  whispered 
Wolfe  to  Grafton  after  the  last  boat  had  passed  the 
danger  point.  "He  evidently  thinks  we  are " 

He  was  interrupted  again.  They  were  nearer 
the  shore  now.  There  were  fewer  trees  too.  A 
challenge  rang  out  over  the  water  once  more. 
They  could  see  this  sentry  running  toward  the  bank 
of  the  river.  This  one  was  wiser  than  the  other;  he 
demanded  to  know  what  boats  those  were. 

"  Provision  boats  for  Quebec,"  answered  the 
Scotsman  readily.  "  Be  quiet!  Don't  make  a 
noise  or  the  English  will  hear  us!  " 

As  it  happened  there  was  an  English  sloop  out 
in  the  river,  and  the  man,  waving  his  hand,  said  no 
more.  They  were  safe  again.  But  the  suspense 
was  terrible.  Fortunately  it  was  soon  relieved. 
Presently  the  boats  swept  around  a  huge  headland 
jutting  out  into  the  stream.  Below  the  headland 
lay  a  little  cove.  The  current  shot  swiftly  about  the 
promontory  and  swept  around  the  little  bay.  The 
boats  were  carried  below  the  landing-place  and  it 
took  some  hard  pulling  before  their  stems  touched 
the  shore. 

Wolfe  had  gone  forward  in  the  cutter,  and  the 
others  drawing  back  to  give  him  passage,  he  was 
the  first  man  to  set  foot  upon  the  muddy  shore.  It 
was  four  o'clock  now.  They  could  hear  eight  bells 
chiming  faintly  from  a  ship  in  the  river.  Dawn 
was  beginning  across  the  hills.  Around  them  in 
the  shadow  it  was  as  still  as  death — that  most  silent 

93 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

hour  before  the  day  breaks.  A  gentle  breeze  had 
sprung  up  and  was  sighing  softly  through  the  trees 
at  the  top  of  the  cliff;  the  sky  was  overcast;  they 
would  have  rain  presently. 

About  two  hundred  feet  away,  since  it  was  low 
tide,  the  bluffs  rose  precipitously  from  the  level 
beach.  There  was  room  at  their  base  to  disem 
bark  the  whole  army.  After  Wolfe  and  the  officers, 
including  Grafton,  had  landed,  the  light  infantry 
noiselessly  clambered  out  of  the  boats  and  ad 
vanced  toward  the  foot  of  the  cliffs. 

It  was  as  dark  as  midnight  under  their  shadow, 
but  at  the  top  the  first  grayness  of  the  coming 
morning  was  dimly  perceptible.  Trees  were  sil 
houetted  against  the  sky,  and  the  tents,  white  blurs, 
could  be  seen  from  the  river.  The  enemy  was  there, 
then.  Was  he  ready?  They  would  soon  know. 

A  zigzag  path,  up  which  a  single  file  of  men 
might  with  difficulty  make  its  way,  broke  the  sheer 
face  of  the  cliff.  It  had  been  barricaded  with  heavy 
timbers  and  was  at  present  unscalable. 

There  was  a  momentary  pause. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  whole  enterprise,  so  bril 
liantly  conceived  and  so  successfully  carried  out 
hitherto,  would  be  blocked  by  this  unfortunate 
obstacle.  They  had  succeeded  in  landing  unob 
served,  but  if  they  attempted  to  tear  down  the  bar 
ricade  they  would  inevitably  attract  the  attention 
of  the  negligent  defenders  at  the  top  of  the  path. 
Under  such  circumstances  the  attempt  would  have 
to  be  given  over.  As  Wolfe  had  said,  one  hundred 
men  might  hold  that  towering  cliff  against  an  army. 

94 


The  Beginning  of  the  Hazard 

"  I  think  we  can  scramble  up  the  cliff  by  the  aid 
of  these  trees,"  said  Howe  at  last. 

It  was  a  bold  proposition.  Wolfe  looked  at 
him  gratefully  and  approvingly.  It  was  their  only 
chance,  and  the  young  general  gave  the  signal  for 
the  attempt  in  these  not  very  encouraging  words: 

"  You  may  try  it,  Colonel  Howe,  but  I  do  not 
think  you  will  succeed.  Captain,"  he  added,  turn 
ing  to  one  of  his  staff,  "  tell  General  Monckton  to 
keep  the  rest  of  the  men  quiet  in  the  boats  for  a  few 
moments.  We  may  have  no  need  for  them." 

As  he  spoke  Howe  and  his  gallant  twenty-four 
sprang  at  the  cliff.  They  were  soon  lost  in  the 
shadow  covering  the  face  of  it,  and  the  watchers 
below  could  trace  the  course  of  their  slow  and  pain 
ful  ascent  by  the  crashing  sounds  they  made,  as  by 
the  aid  of  stunted  trees  growing  in  clumps  here 
and  there  they  made  their  toilsome  way  upward. 
Why  the  French  did  not  discover  them  has  never 
been  explained. 

The  whole  future  history  of  the  world  depended 
upon  the  success  of  the  endeavour  of  that  gallant 
little  handful  of  men,  and  though  they  may  not  have 
realized  it  as  we  do  now,  something  of  the  impor 
tance  of  the  attempt  made  itself  felt  even  to  them. 
Wolfe,  leaning  his  enfeebled  form  against  a  tree, 
stood  with  his  face  turned  upward  at  earnest  gaze. 
Graf  ton,  who  stood  nearest  him,  heard  him  whisper: 

"  Pray  God,  they  may  make  it!    Pray  God!  " 

Presently  the  sounds  died  away  altogether. 
The  silence  was  broken  by  the  sound  of  a  musket- 
shot,  followed  by  another  and  another.  A  quick 

95 


The   guiberon  Touch 

fusillade  rang  out  from  the  sky  above  them.  They 
were  there,  then!  They  were  engaged!  What 
had  been  the  issue? 

Concealment  was  no  longer  possible  or  desir 
able.  At  a  word  from  their  commander  the  men 
on  shore  sprang  at  the  barricades.  The  scene 
changed  from  one  of  absolute  quiet  to  intense 
activity. 

"  Have  they  won,  think  you?  "  asked  Grafton. 

"  We  shall  know  in  a  moment,"  answered 
Wolfe.  "  If  they  have  lost,  somebody  will  come 
tumbling  down  the  cliff  to  tell  the  tale.  Mean 
while,  I  am  staking  all  on  the  chance  of  their  suc 
cess." 

The  little  cove  was  now  filled  with  noise. 
Catching  the  contagion  the  men  began  to  spring 
from  the  boats  and  fell  in  on  the  shore.  The  feel 
ings  of  the  soldiers,  repressed  so  long  through  the 
night,  found  vent  in  cheers  and  cries.  Presently 
a  hail  came  down  from  the  cliff.  It  was  Howe's 
voice. 

"We  have  the  post!"  he  shouted.  "The 
enemy  has  fled!  The  way  is  open!  " 

"  Hold  it  at  all  hazards!  "  cried  the  commander. 

The  cheering  men  fairly  tore  the  barricades  to 
pieces  and  scrambled  up  the  path,  Wolfe  himself 
in  the  lead.  Captain  de  Vergor,  who  commanded 
the  French  guard,  was  incapable  and  a  coward.  He 
had  kept  negligent  watch.  Howe  and  his  handful 
of  men  had  surprised  them.  The  fall  of  New 
France  must  be  laid  at  the  feet  of  one  person;  and, 
singularly  enough,  the  beginning  of  American  in- 

96 


The  Beginning  of  the  Hazard 

dependence  may  be  traced  to  the  splendid  exploit 
of  the  young  soldier,  who,  as  a  general  long  after, 
at  Long  Island,  White  Plains,  Brandywine,  and 
Germantown,  did  his  best  to  stop  its  course. 

The  party  who  gained  the  top  found  themselves 
upon  a  grassy  plateau  whose  level  surface  was 
broken  by  slight  undulations.  From  this  vantage- 
ground  they  could  see  far  down  the  river.  They 
seemed  to  be  lifted  in  air  on  the  roof  of  the  world. 
Quebec  lay  before  them,  but  hidden  by  the  undu 
lations  of  the  plateau.  Clumps  of  trees  rose  here 
and  there,  but  the  ground  was  mainly  clear.  It 
was  plainly  morning  now.  Wolfe's  first  words  were 
those  of  hearty  thanks  and  congratulation  to  the 
young  colonel  of  the  light  infantry.  Then  he 
turned  to  his  friend,  who  had  followed  him  up  the 
hill: 

"  Go  back  to  the  boats,  Captain  Grafton,"  he 
cried,  "  and  use  all  speed  to  bring  the  men  under 
Burton  over  from  the  other  side!  Ah,"  he  ex 
claimed,  sweeping  the  river  with  his  glance,  "  yon 
der  come  the  ships  drifting  down  with  the  tide! 
Despatch  Lieutenant  Hatfield  to  Admiral  Holmes 
with  my  compliments  and  ask  him  to  have  the  rest 
of  the  men  landed  from  the  ships  at  once.  I  think 
it  would  be  possible  to  get  a  few  of  the  six-pounders 
up  the  path.  Perhaps  the  admiral  will  send  sea 
men  to  attend  to  it.  We  shall  need  them  sadly,  if 
I  mistake  not." 

'  Think  you  we  shall  have  a  fight  this  morn 
ing?  "  asked  Grafton. 

"  I  am  sure  of  it !  " 

97 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

"  I  shall  endeavour  to  be  back  in  season  to  join 
in  then,"  answered  the  sailor,  turning  away. 

"  I  think  you  will  have  ample  time,"  said  Wolfe, 
smiling  at  the  sentiments  of  his  friend. 

As  Grafton  descended  the  path  Wolfe  de 
spatched  Howe,  with  his  light  infantry,  to  attend 
to  the  important  duty  of  silencing  the  adjacent 
French  posts. 


98 


CHAPTER  XI 

ON  THE  ROOF   OF  THE  WORLD 

IT  was  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Every 
available  English  soldier  had  been  landed  on  the 
Quebec  side  and  had  scrambled  up  the  cliffs  to  the 
Plains  of  Abraham.  The  hours  intervening  since 
the  first  attack  had  not  been  idle  ones.  French 
batteries  erected  at  Samos  and  Sillery,  not  far  dis 
tant,  and  on  either  side  of  the  cove,  had  been  gal 
lantly  taken  by  assault,  and  scouting  parties  had 
cleared  the  adjacent  country  of  stragglers.  The 
sailors  under  Grafton  by  herculean  endeavour  had 
drawn  two  six-pounders  to  the  crest  of  the  pla 
teau.  Since  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  these 
two  guns,  excellently  served  by  the  seamen,  had 
been  replying  to  a  heavy  fire  from  the  three  larger 
guns  of  the  French,  who  had  begun  assembling  as 
early  as  six  o'clock  on  the  hill  beyond  the  English 
position. 

From  the  covert  afforded  by  the  trees  and  un 
derbrush  on  the  side  of  the  St.  Charles  River  valley, 
as  well  as  on  the  St.  Lawrence  edge,  Indian  and 
backwoods  sharp-shooters  had  been  pouring  a  gall 
ing  rifle  fire  upon  the  English,  to  which  no  effective 
reply  could  be  made.  The  thin  red  line  of  soldiers 

99 


The   £)uiberon  Touch 

that  had  so  often  stood  between  humanity's  prog 
ress  and  the  armed  world  in  opposition,  keeping 
open  the  pathway  of  the  future,  was  drawn  up  in 
three  ranks.  The  lines  were  not  long  enough  to 
reach  across  the  plateau,  and  the  left  flank,  where 
Townshend  commanded,  was  refused — drawn  back 
at  a  right  angle  from  the  battle  front. 

Colonel  Burton,  with  the  light  infantry,  was 
held  in  reserve  to  anticipate  a  possible  attack  from 
Bougainville.  That  worthy  officer,  however, 
knew  nothing  of  the  landing  and  remained  quietly 
in  camp  at  Cap-Rouge,  expecting  the  return  of  the 
British  ships  with  the  changing  tide.  The  sky  was 
overcast,  and  fitful  showers,  light  in  character  and 
brief  in  duration,  besprinkled  the  sod,  soon  to  be 
wetted  by  a  liquid  substance  of  greater  consistence 
and  more  ominous  colour. 

If  the  scarlet-clad  Englishmen  presented  a  vivid 
though  menacing  picture  to  the  French,  the  aspect 
of  the  latter  was  sufficiently  picturesque  to  awaken 
the  admiration  of  their  foes.  Very  handsome  the 
white  coats  of  the  French  regulars  looked  against 
the  green  grass  that  morning.  Alas!  many  of  them 
were  destined  to  sport  the  red  colours  of  England 
before  the  day  was  decided. 

•  Monsieur  de  Montcalm  and  his  officers,  on 
horseback,  rode  to  and  fro  addressing  and  arrang 
ing  their  lines  in  plain  view.  There  was  much 
cheering  and  shouting  on  the  one  hand,  much 
grim,  dour  silence  on  the  other.  The  essential  ra 
cial  differences  between  the  two  nations  were 
well  marked  in  the  varying  demeanour  of  the  two 

100 


On   the  Roof  of  the  World 

armies.  There  was  no  lack  of  courage  and  spirit  in 
either. 

Of  course  there  were  no  horses  in  the  British 
army,  and  Wolfe  and  his  staff,  with  all  the  other 
officers,  were  forced  to  go  afoot.  The  young  gen 
eral  did  not  look  an  heroic  figure.  Tall,  thin, 
stooping,  emaciated,  red-headed,  pale,  freckled;  a 
most  unmilitary  cast  of  countenance,  with  retreat 
ing  forehead  and  weakly  sloping  chin;  never  were  a 
physiognomy  and  appearance  so  belied  by  charac 
ter.  The  sparkle  of  his  red-brown  eyes  was  the 
only  thing  that  indicated  the  transcendent  great 
ness  of  the  man. 

Few  commanders  have  been  so  esteemed  and 
loved  by  the  men  they  led  as  he,  and  the  affection 
and  respect  in  which  they  held  him  were  warranted, 
for  his  mettle  had  been  proved.  No  mere  freak  of 
fortune,  no  lucky  chance  had  put  him  in  his  present 
position.  He  had  won  preferment  by  desert.  This 
morning  was  but  the  final  demonstration  of  his 
courage  and  capacity,  the  culmination  of  a  brief 
but  rarely  brilliant  career. 

Some  of  the  men  behind  Wolfe  had  followed 
him  through  the  surf  that  beat  upon  the  rock-bound 
shores  of  Cape  Breton  off  Louisburg,  and  they 
knew  what  he  could  do.  There  was,  indeed,  sore 
need  for  the  manifestation  of  the  highest  skill,  the 
exercise  of  the  most  dauntless  courage.  There  was 
no  disguising  the  serious  nature  of  the  situation 
before  them.  Opposed  to  them  was  a  general  who 
was  the  very  flower  of  the  French  captains  of  his 
age.  The  battalions  under  his  command  had  fairly 

101 


The  guiberon  Touch 

beaten  the  English  at  far-off  Oswego,  at  Fort  Wil 
liam  Henry,  and  with  most  awful  slaughter  at  tree- 
clad  Ticonderoga.  Drawn  from  the  most  famous 
regiments  of  old  France,  they  had  worthily  upheld 
their  ancient  traditions  of  valour  on  many  a  New- 
World  field. 

The  two  armies  were  about  equal  in  number. 
The  qualities  of  the  French  regulars  were  as  high 
as  those  of  the  British  army,  but  the  average  of  the 
French  force  was  sadly  diminished  by  the  fact  that 
the  larger  portion  of  their  army  was  made  up  of 
Canadian  militia.  These  hardy  peasants  were  ex 
cellent  fighters  in  forest  service,  but  poor  material 
indeed  with  which  to  face  regular  troops  in  the 
open. 

But  Montcalm  had  been  hasty.  He  might  have 
waited  longer,  until  Bougainville  with  his  excel 
lent  division  had  joined  him,  or  at  least  reached  a 
position  from  which  he  could  support  the  French 
attack  by  a  demonstration  in  force  in  the  rear  of  the 
English.  Fight  the  French  must,  of  course,  or 
starve,  but  they  would  not  have  starved  in  a  few 
hours,  and  a  few  hours  might  have  materially 
changed  the  situation.  There  were  battery  after 
battery  of  field-pieces  back  in  Quebec  which  should 
have  been  despatched  to  Montcalm's  assistance. 
His  repeated  and  most  pressing  requests  to  de 
Ramesay,  the  commander,  had  only  brought  three 
guns  to  him,  and  the  cowardly  de  Vaudreuil,  the 
Governor  of  the  Province,  was  holding  at  Beau- 
port  thousands  of  men  idle  in  their  intrenchments, 
who  should  have  been  despatched  to  his  assistance. 

102 


On  the  Roof  of  the  World 

How  explain  the  Frenchman's  reckless  haste? 
The  fact  was  that  Montcalm  had  always  beaten  the 
English.  He  had  never  in  his  whole  career  met  a 
single  commander  among  them  who  appeared  to 
have  the  slightest  military  genius,  and  he  made  the 
fatal  mistake  of  despising  his  foes.  Perhaps  the 
fact  that  they  lay  there  stubbornly  taking  the  gall 
ing  skirmish  fire  from  the  coverts  on  either  flank 
so  silently,  in  spite  of  its  ghastly  effectiveness,  re 
plying  only  to  his  heavier  guns  with  their  two  six- 
pounders,  gave  him  greater  confidence;  at  any  rate, 
at  ten  in  the  morning  he  ordered  an  advance. 

With  feverish  impatience  the  English  held 
themselves  in  restraint  under  the  peremptory  orders 
of  their  commander.  As  Wolfe  saw  the  French  ris 
ing  on  the  crest  of  the  hill,  giving  evidence  of  their 
intention  to  join  battle  in  close  encounter,  he 
walked  rapidly  up  and  down  his  own  line  speak 
ing  those  simple,  hearty  words  of  encouragement, 
as  he  passed  by  his  soldiery,  which  do  much  to 
make  a  man  a  hero.  A  quiver  of  delight  ran 
through  the  compact  ranks.  With  fierce  pleasure 
the  men  looked  to  their  pieces  and  made  themselves 
ready. 

It  was  to  be  a  direct  attack  in  force,  a  test  of 
marksmanship  and  endurance,  no  manoeuvring,  no 
bewildering  tactics,  just  a  fierce  give  and  take  and 
the  best  man  to  win — a  game  the  English  loved  to 
play,  and  one  they  played  well.  Montcalm  on  his 
black  horse  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  raised  his  hand. 
It  was  coming,  then.  There  was  a  stir  in  the 
French  ranks.  The  pieces  were  raised  to  the 

103 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

shoulders.  The  general's  hand  fell.  Ah,  it  was 
upon  them! 

Suddenly  the  crest  of  the  slope  in  front  of  them 
was  tipped  with  flame  and  covered  with  smoke. 
The  rattle  of  arms  crashed  over  the  field.  Bullets 
rang  through  the  morning  air.  Men  were  dropping 
here  and  there  among  the  ranks  of  the  stolid  British; 
some  moaned  and  shrieked  in  the  anguish  of  shat 
tered  limb  or  torn  body,  and  some  lay  still  and  quiet 
in  the  grass,  recking  little,  minding  nothing  of  the 
roar  of  battle  about  them.  The  French,  after  the 
first  volley,  began  firing  continuously  and  irregu 
larly,  still  advancing. 

Suddenly,  when  the  cheering  and  yelling  white- 
coats  had  reached  a  point  perhaps  one  hundred 
yards  away,  a  sharp  command  rang  out  in  English. 
The  officers  repeated  Wolfe's  signal. 

"  Steady!     Ready!     Aim!" 

Be  quiet  all,  for  now  was  the  time!  The  mus 
kets  of  the  waiting  red  ranks  came  smartly  down. 

"Fire!" 

The  first  rank  delivered  a  volley  which  crashed 
over  the  plateau  like  cannon-shot.  Their  drill 
was  magnificent.  A  moment  of  startling  silence 
supervened  and  the  second  rank  repeated  the  per 
formance.  Ere  the  echoes  of  the  discharge  had 
died  away  among  the  hills,  the  third  rank  sent  its 
sheet  of  destruction  in  the  face  of  the  advancing 
men.  The  field  was  covered  with  thick  smoke. 
The  English  could  see  nothing.  For  a  moment  no 
reply  was  made  to  them.  Then  a  scattered  fire, 
confessing  weakness  by  its  feebleness,  ran  along 

104 


On  the  Roof  of  the  World 

the  French  line.  Again  and  again  the  deadly 
discharge  of  the  English  was  poured  out.  The 
French  seemed  to  be  making  no  reply  at  all. 
Presently  there  was  a  slight  respite  and  the 
smoke  cleared  away,  revealing  a  horrid  picture  of 
carnage. 

The  crest  of  the  hill  was  covered  with  bodies. 
Most  of  the  horsemen  were  down.  Montcalm  and 
one  or  two  officers  were  striving  desperately  to  re 
form  their  men.  The  Canadian  militia,  unable  to 
stand  against  such  a  fearful  fire,  had  melted  away. 
The  French  grenadiers,  the  white-coated  regulars, 
were  rallying  in  bewildered  little  knots  here  and 
there  upon  their  officers.  The  French  advance  was 
completely  barred.  Now  was  the  moment  to 
strike. 

"  The  picture?  "  said  Wolfe  to  Graf  ton,  who  was 
standing  by  him.  "  You  have  it?  " 

"  Here." 

"  Remember — and  good-bye,  old  friend.  Now, 
gentlemen,"  he  cried,  "  let  us  go  at  them.  For 
ward!  " 

Like  a  common  soldier  the  young  general, 
sword  up,  face  smiling,  put  himself  at  the  head  of 
the  Louisburg  grenadiers.  The  French  had  at  last 
got  into  some  sort  of  order,  rallying  in  thin,  broken, 
and  exhausted  lines.  Their  courage  was  superb. 
They  saw  death  in  the  advancing  mass  of  the  Brit 
ish  infantry,  but  they  did  not  waver.  The  battle 
was  lost  to  them;  they  would  strike  another  blow 
at  any  rate. 

It  was  the  English  who  cheered  now,  the 
8  105 


The  guiberon  Touch 

French  had  passed  the  cheering  stage.  This  time 
it  was  they  who  poured  their  volleys  into  the  ad 
vancing  British.  The  execution  done  among  them 
was  fearful.  A  bullet  shattered  the  wrist  of  the 
general.  He  caught  a  handkerchief  about  it  and 
pressed  on.  A  second  shot  hit  him,  but  still  he  did 
not  falter.  A  third  bullet  struck  him  full  in  the 
breast;  he  staggered  a  moment  and  fell.  With  a 
fierce  yell  for  revenge  his  army  swept  by  him.  A 
last  volley  from  the  French  and  bayonets  crossed 
in  the  smoke. 

Wolfe,  in  the  rear  of  the  line,  was  down  and  dy 
ing.  It  needed  no  surgeon  to  translate  the  look 
of  death  upon  his  face.  Grafton  knelt  by  him  and 
took  his  hand,  tears  streaming  down  his  face.  The 
path  of  glory  was  indeed  ending  here.  Others 
quickly  assembled  where  the  soldier  lay  bleeding  to 
death  on  the  field. 

"  The  battle,"  whispered  the  dying  man.  "  Tell 
me?" 

"They  run!  They  run!"  cried  Grafton,  rising 
and  surveying  the  field. 

"  Who  run? "  he  asked,  eagerly  opening  his 
eyes  and  looking  up  at  his  friend  from  where  he  lay 
in  the  arms  of  the  surgeon  on  the  grass,  stained  red 
by  his  own  blood. 

"The  enemy!  The  enemy!  They  give  way 
everywhere!  " 

"  Go,  one  of  you,  to  Colonel  Burton,"  said 
Wolfe,  smiling  weakly,  "  and  tell  him  to  march 
Webb's  regiment  down  to  the  St.  Charles  River  to 
cut  off  their  retreat  from  the  bridge." 

106 


On  the  Roof  of  the  World 

It  was  the  last  thought  of  a  soldier — his  duty. 
He  sank  back  in  the  arms  of  his  attendants. 

Philip,  filled  with  grief,  dropped  on  his  knees  be 
side  him.  Wolfe  opened  his  eyes  again  for  a  mo 
ment. 

"  Philip,"  he  whispered,  "  remember  the  picture 
— Quebec — "  He  turned  on  his  side.  "  Now, 
God  be  praised,"  he  murmured,  "  I  will  die  in 
peace." 

There  was  a  fierce  struggle  going  on  all  over  the 
field.  The  French  were  dying  hard.  Grafton  ran 
along  the  line  to  inform  Monckton,  the  second  in 
command,  of  Wolfe's  death.  He  found  that  briga 
dier  desperately  wounded,  and  then  ran  over  to  the 
left  flank  to  carry  the  news  to  Townshend,  the  sec 
ond  brigadier. 

Aided  by  heavy  skirmishers  in  the  wood,  and  by 
the  fact  that  Townshend  was  compelled  to  refuse  his 
lines,  the  battle  had  been  more  fiercely  contested 
here  than  elsewhere.  A  squadron  of  cavalry,  the 
only  party  of  horse  on  the  field,  which  had  been 
sent  scouting  by  Bougainville,  suddenly  appeared 
on  the  flank,  and  charged  furiously  down  upon 
Townshencl's  men.  They  gave  way.  That  general 
had  started  for  the  centre  of  the  army  when  Grafton 
told  him  the  sad  tidings,  and  at  his  request  the 
sailor  hurried  to  the  extreme  left  flank. 

Without  thinking  that  he  was  left  unsupported 
by  the  temporary  retreat  of  the  English  soldiers, 
Grafton  sprang  forward  to  meet  the  cavalry.  He 
brought  down  the  first  horseman  with  his  pistol,  but 
the  second  struck  his  cutlass  from  his  outstretched 

107 


The  guiberon  Touch 

hand,  inflicting  a  deep  cut  in  his  arm,  and  the  third 
caught  him  by  the  collar. 

"  I'll  take  this  one  prisoner.  Yield,  monsieur!  " 
he  cried  in  French. 

"  We  are  beaten!  "  cried  the  officer  commanding 
the  cavalry,  as  the  English  rallied  and  came  forward 
again.  "  Look,  we  give  way  everywhere !  Sauve 
que  pent,  mes  braves!  " 

"  I  don't  lose  this  man,  though,"  said  the  soldier 
stubbornly.  "  Will  you  run,  or  be  dragged?  "  he 
called  to  Grafton.  Not  waiting  for  a  reply,  he 
wheeled  his  horse,  and,  keeping  tight  hold  of  Graf- 
ton,  galloped  off  with  the  rest. 

It  was  not  a  dignified  position,  but  there  was 
nothing  for  him  to  do  but  to  strive  to  keep  his  feet 
as  best  he  might.  If  he  fell  he  would  be  trampled 
to  death  by  the  horses; -if  he  did  not  run  he  would 
probably  be  dragged  until  he  choked.  He  was  a 
wise  as  well  as  a  brave  man,  so  he  struggled  desper 
ately  on. 

His  arm  had  been  badly  wounded  by  the  blow 
which  had  disabled  it,  and  as  his  captor  reached  the 
St.  Louis  Gate  of  the  city  a  bullet  struck  him  in  the 
back.  His  strength  finally  gave  way  at  that,  and  he 
fainted.  He  was  a  small  man,  and  the  big  trooper 
lifted  him  to  the  front  of  the  saddle  by  some  unex 
plained  impulse,  laid  him  across  the  horse,  and  held 
him  there  as  he  forced  his  way  into  the  panting,  ter 
rified  mass  of  retreating  soldiery. 

Ahead  of  them  was  an  officer  on  a  big  black 
horse.  He  was  deadly  pale,  and  blood  was  trickling 
over  the  white  lace  of  his  shirt  and  staining  his  open 

1 08 


On  the  Roof  of  the  World 

waistcoat.  He  would  have  fallen  from  his  horse  had 
not  two  soldiers  on  either  side  supported  him.  He 
sat  with  his  hands  on  the  pommel  of  the  saddle, 
leaning  forward.  His  face  wore  a  stricken  look. 
Tears  were  trickling  down  his  cheeks — not  on  ac 
count  of  his  wounds,  however,  but  from  a  deeper 
hurt.  It  was  Montcalm. 

The  gate  was  open  now,  and  the  fugitives  were 
pouring  through.  Inside  the  walls  a  crowd  of 
women,  children,  and  old  men  were  congregated  in 
the  Rue  St.  Louis.  There  was  weeping  and  wailing 
and  wringing  of  hands  as  the  wounded,  battered, 
shattered,  terrified  mass  of  fugitives  swept  through 
the  gate.  The  deadly  rattle  of  small-arms,  which 
since  early  morning  had  kept  up  without  the  walls, 
had  nearly  died  away.  The  bugles  of  England  were 
calling  a  halt,  the  red-coats  were  assembling  on  their 
colours.  They  were  too  weak  to  assault  the  ram 
parts  yet,  and  therefore  allowed  the  shattered 
French  army  to  enter  the  city.  Presently  the  mar 
quis,  still  on  his  horse,  was  drawn  within  the  gate 
by  the  eddying  crowd. 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu!  mon  Dieu!  Le  Marquis  est 
tui!"  cried  a  woman. 

Her  words  were  taken  up  by  the  crowd,  who 
loved  the  great  and  gentle  soldier  with  a  passionate 
devotion  which  they  withheld  from  the  thieving 
scoundrels  who  made  up  the  civil  government. 
Even  then  his  first  thought  was  for  the  people.  As 
he  heard  the  cries  of  the  multitude  he  lifted  his  head 
and  said: 

"  Ce  n'est  rien,  ce  n'est  rien;  ne  vous  afftigez  pas 
109 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

pour  moi,  mcs  bonnes  amies."  (It  is  nothing,  it  is 
nothing;  do  not  be  troubled  for  me,  my  good 
friends.) 

Meanwhile  the  dragoon,  with  Grafton  lying  limp 
across  his  saddle,  rode  a  few  rods  down  the  street 
until  he  escaped  from  the  thick  of  the  crowd.  Then 
he  turned  his  attention  to  his  prisoner.  The  Eng 
lishman  was  lying  pale  and  apparently  lifeless  before 
him. 

"  Nom  de  chien!  "  cried  the  Frenchman.  "  Have 
I  been  carrying  a  dead  man  all  this  time?  " 

With  an  expression  of  disgust  he  lifted  him  from 
his  saddle  and  let  him  slide  to  the  ground.  He  was 
riding  near  the  pavement  at  the  time  and  the  street 
was  narrow.  The  soldier  had  not  thrown  him 
roughly,  and  Philip  slipped  gently  down  upon  the 
sidewalk,  his  head  falling  rather  heavily  against  the 
open  doorstep.  A  woman  standing  gazing  from  the 
door  screamed  and  shrank  back.  The  shock  and 
the  pain  of  his  wounds  caused  him  to  open  his  eyes. 
He  was  dimly  conscious  of  a  face  as  beautiful  as  an 
angel's  bending  over  him.  He  heard  a  sweet,  start 
led  voice,  rilled  with  music,  murmuring  in  exquisite 
French, 

"  Mon  Dieu!    He  is  living,  then!  " 

He  knew  no  more. 


no 


BOOK   III 

THE  HONOUR   OF  DE   VITRE 


CHAPTER    XII 

THE    SAILOR    AND    THE    MOB 

LIEUTENANT  DENIS  DE  VITRE  had  been  in  peril 
of  his  life  many  times  during  his  short  but  exciting 
career,  but  he  had  never  come  so  near  death  as  with 
in  the  past  few  months.  Indeed,  His  Grim  Majesty, 
the  King  of  Terrors,  had  stared  the  young  officer 
full  in  the  face  and  his  cold  hand  had  been  fairly 
clasped  around  his  throat.  It  would  have  gone  hard 
with  him  but  for  the  timely  interference  of  a  friend. 

De  Vitre  was  a  hardy,  bold  young  man,  who 
loved  fighting  as  he  loved  sunlight,  on  account,  per 
haps,  of  the  Irish  touch  in  his  nature  from  a  far-off 
strain  of  the  Emerald  Isle  on  the  distaff  side.  One 
of  the  higher  Canadian  noblesse,  whose  family  was  of 
first  importance  in  New  France,  owning  wide  pos 
sessions  and  high  in  favour  in  the  governor's  court, 
he  had  received  a  commission  in  the  navy  of  France. 
While  in  command  of  the  boats  of  a  scouting  expe 
dition  in  the  lower  St.  Lawrence  he  had  been  cap 
tured  by  Admiral  Durell's  squadron. 

When  the  fleet  of  Vice-Admiral  Saunders  en 
tered  the  river  and  started  upon  that  toilsome  and 

in 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

dangerous  ascent  to  Quebec  the  vice-admiral  had 
required  his  captives,  of  whom  de  Vitre  was  chief, 
to  pilot  the  great  ships  up  the  uncertain  river.  The 
young  officer,  for  one,  had  peremptorily  refused 
to  do  this,  and  neither  threat  nor  appeal  had  induced 
him  to  recede  from  his  position. 

The  process  of  intimidation  had  indeed  been  car 
ried  so  far  as  to  cause  Monsieur  de  Vitre  to  be 
mounted  upon  the  rail  of  a  ship  with  a  rope  around 
his  neck,  the  other  end  of  which  was  rove  through  a 
block  at  the  top-sail  yard-arm.  Had  it  not  been  for 
the  friend  mentioned  he  would  have  been  hanged 
for  his  contumacy,  and  to  discourage — or  encourage 
— the  other  pilots,  men  of  less  rank  and  station,  who 
showed  a  disposition  to  emulate  his  refusal. 

From  this  difficult — and,  for  a  man  of  birth  and 
station,  unpleasant — position  the  Frenchman  had 
been  rescued  by  the  intercessions  of  the  young  cap 
tain  of  the  ship,  a  brave  man,  who  loved  courage 
and  resolution  even  in  his  enemies.  As  his  inter 
cession  was  seconded  by  the  influence  of  General 
Wolfe,  to  whose  request  Admiral  Saunders  gra 
ciously  deferred,  it  was  efficacious  in  releasing  Mon 
sieur  de  Vitre  from  his  appalling  and  unpleasant 
predicament. 

Other  men  were  found  with  less  exalted  views 
of  their  duty  to  their  country  who  could  be  per 
suaded  by  the  means  which  failed  so  signally  in  the 
case  of  de  Vitre,  and  the  ships  were  accordingly 
piloted  safely  up  the  river.  Meanwhile,  his  quality 
having  been  demonstrated  by  his  heroism,  de  Vitre 
was  held  a  close  prisoner  in  the  fleet.  He  had  re- 

112 


The  Sailor  and  the  Mob 

fused  to  give  his  parole,  and  accordingly  had  been 
closely  confined,  and  was  carefully  guarded. 

A  winning  tongue,  a  little  money,  and  specious 
promises  of  ultimate  reward  had  made  a  friend  for 
him  among  his  guards,  and  the  suborned  soldier 
had  at  last  found  means  to  supply  him  with  a  Brit 
ish  uniform.  In  the  hurry  and  confusion  of  the  de 
barkation  of  the  soldiery  for  the  attempt  on  the 
Plains  of  Abraham,  de  Vitre  had  succeeded  in  join 
ing  himself  to  one  of  the  landing  parties  without 
attracting  attention.  The  captain  of  the  Sutherland, 
on  which  he  had  been  held  prisoner,  was  surprised 
the  next  morning  to  find  the  sentry  bound  and 
gagged — by  his  own  collusion,  of  course,  though 
that  was  unknown — in  de  Vitre's  room  and  his  pris 
oner  gone. 

However,  there  was  so  much  business  of  mo 
ment  on  hand  the  day  of  the  battle  that  no  search 
was  made  for  him;  indeed,  none  could  be  made,  and 
the  certain  fall  of  Quebec,  which  everybody  realized 
must  take  place  when  the  news  of  the  victory 
was  brought  to  the  fleet,  rendered  his  pursuit 
useless.  It  was  too  late  for  even  a  man  of  his 
courage  to  effect  anything  of  importance  then. 
His  knowledge  of  British  affairs  would  be  of  no 
service  now. 

In  the  natural  course  of  events,  too,  de  Vitre 
would  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  English  again  in  a 
few  days.  Meanwhile,  as  he  was  a  pleasant  fellow, 
agreeable  and  debonair,  his  captors  were  rather 
glad  that  he  had  the  privilege  of  a  few  hours  of  lib 
erty,  especially  as  it  was  known  that  the  inspiration 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

of  his  escape  was  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  New 
France. 

De  Vitre  had  met  with  no  opportunity  of  escap 
ing  from  the  English  lines  until  the  battle  was 
joined.  He  had  been  compelled  by  the  exigencies 
of  the  situation  to  point  his  gun  at  his  own  coun 
trymen,  and  though  he  took  care  it  was  not  loaded 
with  ball,  the  mere  motion  gave  him  exquisite  an 
guish.  In  the  smoke  and  confusion  of  the  battle 
field,  however,  he  at  last  found  occasion  to  mingle 
with  the  retreating  French. 

In  the  panic  terror  of  their  retreat  no  one  in  the 
crowding,  pushing  mob  paid  any  attention  to  him, 
and  he  gained  the  city  with  the  rest  of  the  fugitives 
through  the  St.  Louis  Gate.  Forcing  his  way 
through  the  multitude  he  ran  rapidly  down  the 
street  toward  the  place  where  dwelt  the  object  of  his 
adoration.  He  found  her  in  the  doorway  of  her 
house,  bending  over  the  prostrate  form  of  a  small 
man  in  the  blue  and  white  uniform  of  the  Brit 
ish  navy. 

"  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan!  "  he  cried  in  great 
surprise,  stopping  short  at  the  sight.  "  What  is 
the  meaning  of  this?  " 

The  young  woman  looked  up  as  he  called  her 
name,  rose  to  her  feet  as  she  recognised  him,  and 
with  an  expression  of  the  most  withering  scorn  and 
contempt  deliberately  turned  her  back  upon  him. 
For  the  moment  the  stranger  was  forgotten.  De 
Vitre  gasped  and  turned  pale  with  astonishment. 

"Mademoiselle  de  Rohan!"  he  cried  again, 
"  do  you  not  know  me?  " 

114 


The  Sailor  and  the  Mob 

"  I  know  no  one,"  she  answered,  half-turning  to 
ward  him  with  the  contempt  deepening  upon  her 
beautiful  features,  "  who,  born  in  France,  wears  that 
uniform,  which  even  you  disgrace!  " 

"  Disgrace,  mademoiselle!  "  he  cried,  straight 
ening  himself  up,  his  face  flushing.  "  What  mean 
you?  Oh,  this — why — I " 

"  By  God!  "  exclaimed  a  coarse,  rough  voice  at 
his  side,  "it's  de  Vitre!" 

The  young  Frenchman  faced  about  and  saw 
himself  confronted  by  a  grenadier  of  the  regiment 
La  Sarre,  who  had  stopped  and  was  looking  menac 
ingly  at  him.  He  was  followed  by  two  or  three  reg 
ular  soldiers  from  the  various  regiments  and  a  sailor 
from  Vauquelin's  squadron. 

"  De  Vitre,  the  traitor!  "  cried  another. 

"  He  who  piloted  the  English  ships  up  the 
river!  "  exclaimed  the  sailor. 

"  The  man  who  betrayed  New  France!  "  shout 
ed  a  third. 

The  fleeing  soldiery  stopped  and  with  several 
citizens  gathered  about  the  little  group  in  the  door 
way. 

"  Well,  we  are  beaten  now,"  remarked  the  sol 
dier  who  had  first  spoken,  who  held  the  rank  of  a 
sergeant,  "  but  I  guess  we  can  hold  the  town  long 
enough  to  hang  you,  monsieur,  I  saw  you  in  the 
English  ranks  when  they  charged  upon  us — curse 
them!  And  you  brought  up  the  ships 

"  It's  a  lie,  a  dastardly  lie!  "  cried  de  Vitre  des 
perately.  "I " 

"  What  are  you  doing  with  that  English  uniform 

"5 


The  guiberon  Touch 

on?  "  asked  another,  amid  murmurs  of  indignation 
from  the  crowd,  for  the  street  was  now  blocked 
with  people. 

De  Vitre,  seeing  the  hopelessness  of  his  situation, 
backed  up  against  the  wall  and  instinctively  felt  for 
his  sword.  Unfortunately  for  him  he  was  wearing 
a  private  soldier's  uniform,  and  he  had  thrown  away 
his  gun  in  that  mad  rush  for  the  St.  Louis  Gate. 
He  was  alone,  unarmed  and  helpless  before  the  mob. 

"It's  a  fearful  mistake!"  he  shouted.  "My 
friends,  I  am  innocent!  I  can  explain!  Hear  me!  " 

His  voice  was  drowned  in  yells  and  execrations. 
The  soldiers  and  people  had  been  so  harried  and 
wrought  upon  by  the  defeat  of  the  morning  that  a 
sinister  desire  for  revenge  on  some  one  was  added  to 
the  fickle  yet  malevolent  passions  so  easily  awak 
ened  in  the  Gallic  mob.  They  wanted  a  scapegoat, 
and  here  was  one  to  hand. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  cried  the  unhappy  French 
man,  drawing  himself  up  and  turning  to  the  girl, 
who  stood  spellbound  before  the  appalling  display 
of  the  fury  and  passion  of  the  people,  "  I  swear  to 
you  upon  my  honour  that  I  am  innocent!  Vive  la 
nouvclle  France]  Say  that  you  believe  me  before  I 
am  taken!  On  my  soul  I  believe  this  rabble  intends 
to  kill  me!" 

Anne  de  Rohan  hesitated.  Honesty  rang  in  the 
young  man's  voice,  honour  looked  out  of  his  eyes — 
and  love  too — yet  things  were  suspicious. 

"  Well,    will    you    come    with    us    peaceably, 

or "  interrupted  the  sergeant,  with  a  grim  and 

menacing  gesture. 

116 


The  Sailor  and  the  Mob 

"  One  moment,  my  friend,"  cried  the  young  man 
lightly,  having  recovered  his  coolness  and  having 
discovered  the  folly  of  expostulation. 

He  looked  appealingly  at  the  young  woman. 

"  I  believe  you,"  said  Anne  de  Rohan,  suddenly 
extending  her  hand  to  him.  "  Messieurs,"  she 
cried,  turning  to  the  crowd,  "  Monsieur  de  Vitre 
gives  me  his  word  of  honour  that " 

"  Oh,  bah!  "  exclaimed  the  sergeant,  "  the  hon 
our  of  a  traitor  to  the  woman  he  loves !  " 

"  Let  us  kill  him  where  he  stands!  "  shouted 
one. 

"  To  the  lantern  with  him!  "  roared  another. 

"  No,  my  brave  friends,"  said  the  sergeant  coolly, 
"  order,  if  you  please.  He  goes  to  the  governor. 
Come,  monsieur.  Fall  back,  gentlemen,  and  give 
way.  A  moi,  mes  camarades." 

11  Mademoiselle,"  said  de  Vitre  hurriedly,  as  the 
soldiers  surrounded  him  and  prepared  to  force  a 
way  through  the  crowd,  "  I  can  now  face  anything 
with  a  light  heart.  You  believe  in  me.  Take  care 
of  that  gentleman  yonder,  he  is  a  friend  of  mine." 

As  he  spoke,  the  soldiers  seized  him  by  the  arm 
and  hustled  him  down  the  street  toward  the  Cha 
teau  St.  Louis,  the  residence  of  the  governor,  where 
de  Ramesay  sat  in  hurried  consultation  with  his  offi 
cers  over  the  defence  of  the  stricken  town.  The 
crowd,  after  a  few  curious  glances,  followed  the  sol 
diers  and  left  the  prostrate  Englishman  alone  on  the 
doorstep. 

The  young  woman  turned  again  to  the  man  on 
the  step.  He  was  wounded,  perhaps  dying.  The 

117 


The  guiberon  Touch 

bullet  which  struck  him  in  the  back  had  passed 
completely  through  his  shoulder,  and  his  shirt  was 
stained  with  blood.  There  was  a  deep  cut  through 
the  sleeve  of  his  coat  also,  and  his  arm  lay  in  a  little 
pool  of  the  same  deadly  fluid.  His  face  was  covered 
with  blood  from  a  slight  wound  on  his  forehead,  and 
earth-stained  as  well  from  the  muddy  unpaved  street 
where  he  had  fallen.  He  was  a  hideous  spectacle. 
Yet,  though  a  foeman,  he  was  wounded  and  help 
less. 

She  knelt  beside  him,  and,  seeing  at  a  glance 
that  the  wound  in  his  face  was  superficial,  with  not 
unskilful  fingers  she  rapidly  opened  his  waistcoat 
and  tore  open  his  shirt.  Yes,  there  was  the  danger 
ous  wound.  Blood  was  still  oozing  from  it.  She 
had  assisted  the  good  Sisters  in  nursing  the  sick 
and  wounded  during  the  siege,  and  the  gruesome 
sight  was  not  unfamiliar  to  her.  The  wound  must 
be  attended  to  at  once.  Raising  her  voice,  she  called 
through  the  little  hallway: 

"  Josette!    Jean-Renaud,  hither!  " 

Immediately  a  buxom  young  woman  made  her 
appearance  at  the  door  in  obedience  to  her  mis 
tress's  call. 

"  Water,  quick,  Josette,  and  get  Jean-Renaud ! 
Here  is  a  gentleman  wounded,  a  friend  of  Monsieur 
de  Vitre." 

"  Jean-Renaud  is  not  in  the  house,  mademoi 
selle'.  He  went  to  the  St.  Louis  Gate  to— 

"  I  am  here,"  exclaimed  a  deep,  rough  voice,  as 
a  burly  old  man  wearing  the  livery  of  the  de  Rohans 
came  around  the  corner.  "  We  have  lost  the  battle. 

118 


The  Sailor  and  the  Mob 

Monsieur  de  Montcalm  is  mortally  wounded,  as  is 
Monsieur  de  Senezergues,  and  Monsieur  de  St. 
Ours  is  killed." 

"  Peace,  Jean-Renaud!  I  will  hear  your  news  in 
a  moment.  Meanwhile  carry  this  gentleman  to  my 
chamber." 

"  But,  mademoiselle,  that  uniform — he  is  an 
Englishman!  An  enemy!" 

"  In  the  face  of  death,  Jean-Renaud,  all  men  are 
our  friends;  besides,  Monsieur  de  Vitre " 

"  Is  he  here?  "  queried  the  old  servitor,  "  that 
traitor!" 

"  He  is  no  traitor!  "  answered  the  girl  boldly. 

"  Who  says  so?  " 

"  He  himself.     His  word  of  honour " 

"  The  honour  of  a " 

"  How  long  am  I  to  stand  here  and  bandy  words 
with  you,  Jean-Renaud?  Are  you  my  servant,  or 
no?  Would  you  so  answer  Monsieur  le  Marquis? 
No?  Then  do  as  I  bid  you!  " 

She  rose  and  looked  at  him  with  all  the  imperi- 
ousness  of  her  thousand  years  of  ancestry  in  the  wild 
wastes  of  Brittany  in  her  glance.  When  his  mis 
tress  spoke  like  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  done 
but  obey.  The  old  marquis  himself  could  not  be 
more  peremptory. 

Jean-Renaud  stooped  down  and  lifted  up  the 
slight  form  of  the  stranger,  who  lay  in  his  arms  as 
if  he  had  been  a  boy.  He  carried  him  upstairs  and 
deposited  him  upon  a  great  bed  in  a  low-ceiled 
chamber  lighted  by  a  dormer  window.  While  his 
mistress,  with  the  assistance  of  Josette,  busied  her- 

119 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

self  below  in  preparing  such  homely  medicaments 
as  their  experience  could  devise,  Jean-Renaud  re 
moved  the  clothes  from  Grafton  and  put  him  regu 
larly  in  bed.  Then  he  examined  his  wounds  with 
the  skill  of  an  old  campaigner. 

Presently  mademoiselle,  followed  by  the  maid, 
entered  the  room.  With  her  own  hands  she  assisted 
in  washing  the  wounds  and  putting  on  some  tempo 
rary  bandages.  As  she  did  so  she  did  not  fail  to 
note  around  the  neck  of  the  young  Englishman  a 
little  chain  of  gold  from  which  was  suspended  a 
leather  case,  evidently  containing  a  locket. 

"  Shall  I  take  this  off  also?  "  asked  Jean-Re 
naud,  lifting  the  chain,  as  they  passed  the  bandages. 

"  No,  leave  it  there.  'Tis  probably  the  picture 
of  one  he  loves.  Will  he  live,  think  you,  Jean-Re 
naud?  " 

"  I  know  not,  mademoiselle.  'Tis  a  rough 
wound,  and  he  has  lost  much  blood." 

"  A  pity.  But  let  us  hope,"  murmured  the  girl 
thoughtfully. 

The  place  where  the  bed  stood  was  far  from  the 
window  and  in  a  subdued  light,  so  she  had  not  yet 
had  a  fair  view  of  the  face  of  the  wounded  man. 
Indeed,  they  had  been  so  busy  that  they  did  not  have 
time  to  wash  his  face,  hence  she  had  not  recognised 
him. 

"  It  were  best  to  go  for  the  surgeon,  mademoi 
selle,"  remarked  Josette,  gazing  at  the  Englishman 
with  sympathetic  interest,  as  Jean-Renaud  tied  the 
last  bandage  about  the  cut  in  the  arm. 

"A  good  suggestion.  Go  you,  Jean-Renaud; 
1 20 


The  Sailor  and  the  Mob 

and  Josette,  lock  the  street-door  and  see  that 
things  are  looked  after  downstairs.  'Tis  like  to  be 
a  day  of  trouble.  The  soldiers  are  filling  the  street, 
and  we  had  a  sample  of  their  temper  but  a  moment 
since.  Beg  Dr.  Arnoux  to  come  quickly,  Jean-Re- 
naud,  and  hasten  yourself,  for  when  you  return  you 
must  accompany  me  to  the  governor  in  behalf  of 
Monsieur  de  Vitre.  Hand  me  that  basin,  Josette, 
and  the  cloth.  I  will  wash  this  blood  and  earth  from 
the  face  of  the  poor  man." 


CHAPTER    XIII 

GRAFTON    COMES   BACK   TO  THE   ROSE 

THE  two  servants,  in  obedience  to  her  orders, 
left  her  alone  with  the  wounded  man.  He  had  not 
recovered  consciousness,  and  save  for  a  few  feeble 
moans,  while  they  were  working  over  his  more  seri 
ous  wounds,  he  had  given  no  evidence  of  life.  She 
had  not  given  any  thought  to  cleansing  his  face 
until  the  bandaging  and  necessary  work  had  been 
done.  But  now  she  sat  down  beside  him,  and  dip 
ping  the  cloth  in  the  water  tenderly  wiped  the  earth 
stains  from  his  cheek  and  the  coagulated  blood  from 
the  slight  wound  in  his  forehead. 

As  his  features  were  thus  disclosed  to  her  in  the 
dim  light  she  suddenly  stopped  and  bent  over  him 
in  great  surprise.  Her  heart  almost  stopped  beat 
ing.  Was  it  he?  Could  it  be?  She  was  not  sure. 
It  was  so  dark  in  the  alcove  behind  the  draperies  of 
the  bed,  and  the  hangings  were  not  drawn  from  be 
fore  the  window.  Setting  the  basin  down,  she  ran 
to  the  window  and  tore  open  the  curtains. 

The  midday  sunlight  streamed  into  the  chamber 
and  lighted  the  corner  where  the  bed  stood.  She 
turned  and  threw  back  the  hangings  with  a  nervous 
hand.  The  light  fell  full  upon  his  face.  With  a  low 

122 


Grafton  comes  back  to  the  Rose 

cry  she  recognised  him.  It  was  Grafton,  Sir  Philip, 
her  knight  of  old!  Oh,  thank  God  for  it!  Come 
back  to  her  after  all  these  years — yet  in  this  way,  in 
such  a  plight! 

She  stood  in  silence  after  that  first  exclamation 
and  gazed  upon  him,  her  heart,  her  soul  in  her  eyes. 
At  first  she  forgot  the  intervening  years,  she  forgot 
the  uniform  he  wore,  she  forgot  he  was  an  enemy; 
she  remembered  only  that  he  had  come  back  to  her. 
His  memory  had  been  in  her  heart  since  those  child 
ish  days.  She  had  thought  of  him,  dreamed  of  him, 
longed  for  him,  ay!  if  the  truth  were  admitted — 
she  had  loved  him.  Love!  But  could  she  love  the 
enemy  of  France!  Could  a  de  Rohan  mate  with 
one  of  the  hated  English!  She  must  put  him  out 
of  her  heart.  Could  she 

Merciful  heavens,  what  idle  thoughts  were  these! 
He  was  dying  before  her  eyes.  She  leaned  over  him 
and  called  him,  softly,  tenderly,  passionately.  He  did 
not  stir,  and  he  had  told  her  in  olden  times  that  she 
might  summon  him  from  his  grave  and  he  would 
come  at  the  sound  of  her  voice.  She  spoke  to  him 
again  and  again,  but  he  did  not  heed. 

There  was  a  prie-dieu  near  the  head  of  the 
bed.  She  turned  and  sank  to  her  knees  before  it, 
praying  earnestly  for  him  \vith  such  fervour  and  in 
tensity  as  did  not  usually  find  place  in  her  maidenly 
petitions.  Then  she  came  back  to  the  bedside  and 
stood  looking  at  him,  despair  in  her  heart  lest  he 
should  die,  slip  away,  and  make  no  sign.  But  there 
was  nothing  she  could  do,  so  she  schooled  herself  to 
wait,  and  while  she  waited  she  studied  him. 

123 


The  guiberon  Touch 

How  changed  he  was!  Older,  and  yet  the  same. 
There  were  lines  in  his  brow  which  were  not  there 
when  she  had  known  him  before.  She  had  seen 
him  with  a  child's  eyes — it  was  a  woman  now  who 
looked  upon  him.  Grafton  was  a  very  handsome 
man,  not  with  the  beauty  of  effeminacy,  but  in  a  bold, 
manly,  striking  way,  so  she  had  always  thought,  and 
she  thought  it  the  more  strongly  now.  She  marked 
how  his  blond  hair  curled  gracefully  about  his  brow, 
and  through  his  half-opened  lids  she  saw  again  the 
well-remembered  eyes  of  gray.  How  full  of  light 
and  sunshine  they  had  been!  Her  gaze  compre 
hended  his  features  so  strongly  moulded  and  the 
world  of  decision  in  the  firm  mouth  and  the  well- 
turned  chin.  She  remembered  it  so  well.  His  face, 
of  course,  was  deadly  pale  at  this  moment,  but  when 
it  was  flushed  with  health  and  energy  and  the  eyes 
were  alight  with  light  and  hope,  as  she  recalled  him, 
he  was  a  man  to  win  any  woman's  heart.  Would  she 
ever  see  the  hue  of  health  and  strength  there  again? 

He  was  a  small  man,  much  under  the  middle 
stature.  As  she  looked  at  him  she  felt  sure  that 
side  by  side,  now  that  she  had  grown,  he  would 
scarcely  overtower  her  by  an  inch,  but  there  was 
nothing  weak  or  insignificant  about  his  figure.  She 
remembered  how  lightly  he  had  lifted  her  in  the  air 
the  first  day  they  met,  and  how  indignant  she  had 
been.  Could  he  do  it  now?  And  would  she  care? 

She  recalled  with  a  delicious  thrill  of  long  dor 
mant  passion  how  he  had  held  her  in  his  arms  and 
carried  her  to  her  room  that  never-to-be-forgotten 
night  in  the  tower  when  he  had  kissed  her — the  first 

124 


Grafton  comes  back  to  the  Rose 

and  only  time.  The  blood  flamed  in  her  face  at  that 
recollection.  She  had  thought  of  it  often  before, 
but  with  him  lying  there  on  the  bed  it  seemed  dif 
ferent.  Would  that  surgeon  never  come?  She 
could  see  him  faintly  breathing  yet.  He  was  so 
strong,  there  was  certainly  a  chance  for  him.  She 
could  see  the  muscles  of  his  neck  and  shoulder,  and 
she  had  marked  the  splendid  development  of  his 
arm  as  she  had  bandaged  it  a  moment  since.  Yes, 
there  was  hope — if  only  Dr.  Arnoux  would  come. 

His  face,  in  spite  of  his  pallor,  was  bronzed  by 
the  wind  and  weather,  yet  the  white  line  about  his 
forehead  where  it  was  habitually  covered  with  his 
hat  showed  what  his  original  complexion  had  been. 
He  still  was  a  sailor,  evidently.  She  came  from  a 
race  of  sailors,  and  her  heart  warmed  toward  those 
who  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships — for  her  father's 
sake,  or  was  it  for 

Suddenly  her  thoughts  took  another  turn.  The 
shirt  in  which  Jean-Renaud  had  dressed  Grafton 
was  left  slightly  open  at  the  neck  on  account  of  the 
bandage.  The  chain  and  the  locket  had  been 
pushed  aside  and  the  locket  lay  on  the  pillow  by  the 
side  of  his  face  nearest  her.  Whose  face  was  in  the 
locket?  her  heart  queried  anxiously.  Men  did  not 
usually  wear  lockets  unless  they  loved.  Ah!  She 
snatched  it  up  eagerly.  In  any  event,  she  would  not 
have  been  a  woman  if  she  had  not  earnestly  desired 
to  look  in  it,  but  now — the  possibilities  consumed 
her. 

"  I  wonder  who  it  may  be?  "  she  murmured  to 
herself.  "  Tis  a  pretty  case."  She  peered  impa- 

125 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

tiently,  anxiously,  jealously  at  it,  turning  it  over  and 
over  in  her  hand.  It  fascinated  her;  she  would  have 
given  worlds  to  look,  and  yet  she  could  not  bring 
herself  to  open  it. 

"  Well,  'tis  none  of  my  affair,  at  any  rate,"  she 
said  at  last,  dropping  it  upon  the  pillow,  but  with 
great  reluctance,  "  'tis  nothing  to  me,  and  he  is 
nothing.  He  can  never  be  anything  but  a  memory 
of  my  childhood.  Pity,"  she  went  on,  relentlessly 
striving  to  deceive  her  heart  by  simulating  an  indif 
ference  foreign  to  her  feelings,  "  that  so  gallant  a 
man  should  be  laid  low  by  such  a  mischance.  Jean- 
Renaud  says  the  shot  struck  him  in  the  back — in 
the  back — I  wonder — but  no,  I  know  he  is  brave, 
and,  besides,  he  is  a  friend  of  de  Vitre's,  and  de  Vitre 
is  no  coward,  nor  would  he  choose  his  friends  from 
such."  She  broke  away  again  in  thought.  "  O 
God,  how  quiet  he  lies!  Will  he  ever  awaken  from 
that  deadly  stupor,  I  wonder?  I  would  the  doctor 
were  here!  Poor  Sir  Philip,  I — I — I  don't  want 
you  to  die!  " 

She  laid  her  hand  softly  on  his  brow  and  he 
quivered  under  her  touch.  To  her  at  that  moment, 
she  told  herself,  he  was  only  the  friend  of  her  girl 
hood,  her  knight  of  the  old  tower,  a  comrade, 
wounded,  helpless,  dependent,  suffering.  It  was  a 
lie,  she  knew — and  the  Rohans  never  lied.  What 
was  the  use  of  deceiving  her;  no  matter  what  was 
in  the  locket,  no  matter  whether  he  had  forgotten 
her  or  no,  whether  he  were  false  or  true,  she  loved 
him! 

"  I  love  you!    I  love  you!  "  she  murmured. 
126 


Grafton  comes  back  to  the  Rose 

It  was  the  truth  at  last.  The  gates  were 
open  and  the  floods  were  out.  She  took  his  head 
in  her  hands  and  bent  low  over  him.  Why 
keep  up  the  deception  any  longer?  And  in  any 
case  he  would  not  see  or  hear,  he  would  never 
know. 

"  I  love  you!  I  love  you!  I  love  you!  "  she 
said  again  and  again. 

He  was  dying,  perhaps.  Well,  better  so.  He 
could  never  be  anything  to  her;  those  two  had  noth 
ing  in  common  but  the  memory  of  a  past,  and  per 
haps  he  had  not  even  that — that  locket — but  at  least 
she  could  love  him — dead  or  alive — forever.  She 
bent  nearer  to  him.  Her  hair — how  he  had  praised 
it! — brushed  his  cheek;  her  eyes — how  he  had  ad 
mired  them! — gazed  into  his  own,  half-shut  and 
dull. 

She  drew  still  nearer.  With  a  growing  courage 
she  kissed  him.  She  laid  her  lips  softly  upon  his 
forehead,  then  shrank  back  affrighted  at  what  she 
had  done.  A  burning  flush  suffused  her  cheek 
again.  Aghast  she  withdrew  a  little  from  him  and 
forced  herself  to  sit  down.  So  she  watched  him  with 
eyes  brimming,  bosom  heaving,  heart  beating,  and 
with  words  of  prayer  and  caress  mingling  in  her 
soul. 

Presently  he  stirred  slightly  and  opened  his  eyes, 
at  first  slowly,  and  then  wider  while  he  stared  about 
him  in  bewilderment.  As  she  saw  this  evidence  of 
returning  life  her  heart  bounded  with  hope,  but  she 
shrank  back  farther  in  the  shadow.  He  must  not 
see  her.  He  must  not  know.  He  could  not — she 

127 


The  guiberon  Touch 

was  so  changed,  and  he  would  never  find  out  that 
they  had  met.  He  could  go  back  to  the  lady  of 
the  locket. 

In  a  little  while  he  lifted  his  unwounded  arm  and 
felt  eagerly  for  the  little  case  hanging  from  the 
chain  about  his  neck.  His  expression  of  anxiety 
gave  place  to  one  of  relief  as  he  found  it.  Ah,  she 
was  right,  then!  How  she  hated  that  pictured 
woman,  whoever  she  might  be!  He  had  forgotten 
her.  He  should  never  know.  She  steeled  her  heart 
against  him,  closed  her  lips,  turned  away  her  head, 
and  made  no  sound. 

As  his  eyes  roamed  about  the  room  with  an  ex 
pression  of  vague  wonder  in  them,  he  did  not  at 
first  see  her.  When  he  did  he  recalled  her  face,  but 
only  as  it  had  bent  over  him  in  that  momentary  re 
turn  to  consciousness  on  the  doorstep,  was  it  mo 
ments,  or  hours,  or  weeks,  ago?  He  stared  at  her 
in  silence  for  a  moment  and  then  strove  to  rise.  He 
fell  back,  however,  with  the  pain  from  the  effort. 
A  groan  burst  from  his  lips. 

"  You  are  not  to  rise,"  she  said  quickly,  step 
ping  over  to  the  bed  and  laying  her  hand  upon  him 
— how  her  heart  responded  to  this  living  touch — 
"  you  are  to  lie  perfectly  quiet." 

She  strove  vainly  to  compose  her  voice  in  spite 
of  her  agitation.  She  clinched  her  hand  resolutely, 
determined  not  to  betray  herself.  She  kept  her  head 
slightly  turned  away.  If  he  looked  at  her  as  of  old, 
if  he  pleaded  with  her,  she  felt  that  she  could  not 
withstand  him. 

"  Yes,"  she  added,  in  response  to  the  look  of  in- 
128 


Grafton  comes  back  to  the  Rose 

quiry  in  his  face,  "  you  are  in  Quebec.  A  soldier 
brought  you.  You  fell  at  my  door." 

"  The  battle?  "  he  whispered. 

"  Fortune  was  with  you  this  time,  monsieur," 
she  answered  sadly,  "  and  my  countrymen  were  de 
feated." 

"  Thank  you,  mademoiselle,"  replied  Grafton, 
"  but  I  must  go." 

"  But  you  are  a  prisoner.  We  still  hold  the 
city." 

"  But  the  trouble  to  you,"  murmured  Grafton, 
"  this  trespass  on  your  hospitality " 

"  You  are  a  friend  of  Monsieur  de  Vitre." 

"  De  Vitre!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Do  you  know 
him?  " 

"  Yes,  he  is  a  prisoner  in  the  Chateau  St.  Louis 
now." 

"  A  prisoner?  "  he  asked  in  weak  astonishment. 
"  Why,  I  left  him " 

"  But  you  must  not  talk  any  more,"  she  said 
again.  "  Ah,  here  is  the  doctor!  "  she  cried,  as  she 
heard  steps  on  the  stairs,  and  the  old  surgeon,  fol 
lowed  by  Jean-Renaud  and  Josette,  entered  the 
room.  The  two  servants  recognised  Grafton  at 
once,  but  Anne  laid  a  warning  finger  on  her  lips 
and  they  kept  silence.' 

"  What  —  what  —  mademoiselle  !  Have  you 
turned  your  house  into  a  hospital?  "  cried  the  doc 
tor.  "  Where  is  the  patient?  " 

He  bustled  over  to  the  side  of  the  bed  and  looked 
keenly  at  the  young  man  before  him. 

"Where  is  the  wound,  Sir  Englishman?  Ah, 
129 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

in  the  shoulder!  "  His  deft  hands  were  busy  with 
the  bandages  meanwhile.  "  And  monsieur  has  been 
shot  in  the  back " 

"  I  was  not  running  away,  sir,  I  would  have  you 
know!  "  protested  Grafton,  with  unusual  vigour. 

"Why,  no,  of  course  not!"  said  the  doctor 
soothingly. 

"  I  was  captured  by  your  cavalry,  monsieur,  and 
probably  shot  by  a  stray  bullet  from  our  own  line." 

"  Quite  so,  and  the  bullet  has  made  a  nice  hole 
clean  through  your  shoulder.  If  you  lie  quiet  for  a 
few  days,  a  week  or  so,  I  think  all  will  be  well  with 
you.  Now  the  cut  in  the  arm.  Ah,  'tis  not  serious 
either!  " 

The  doctor  skilfully  rebandaged  the  wounds 
after  applying  a  healing  dressing,  and  then  compli 
mented  mademoiselle  for  the  skill  with  which  she 
had  tied  the  original  bandages.  Leaving  some  med 
icine  to  keep  down  any  inflammation  or  fever,  and 
giving  some  directions  as  to  the  diet  of  the  invalid 
— directions  which  were  wonderfully  simplified  by  a 
great  scarcity  of  food,  for  the  town  was  practically 
in  a  state  of  starvation — the  doctor  prepared  to 
leave. 

"  No,  no,  mademoiselle,"  he  said,  as  she 
pressed  him  to  remain,  "  I  have  no  time.  The  city 
is  full  of  wounded  and  dying.  Every  one  is  pressed 
into  service.  Monsieur  de  Montcalm  is  shot 
through  the  breast.  He  can  scarcely  survive  the 
day.  When  I  told  him,  in  answer  to  his  inquiry, 
that  he  could  not  live,  he  exclaimed,  '  So  much  the 
better,  my  dear  Arnoux,  I  shall  not  live  to  see  the 

130 


Grafton  comes  back  to  the  Rose 

surrender  of  Quebec! '  Helas,  so  brave  a  soldier, 
and  so  young!  He  will  never  go  back  to  Candiac, 
to  the  wife  and  children  in  his  beloved  France!  " 

"  My  general,"  whispered  Grafton,  "  he,  too, 
is  killed." 

"  He  was  a  brave  man,"  returned  the  surgeon 
courteously.  "  Well,  monsieur,  we  may  trust  they 
are  together  there" — he  threw  up  his  head — "where 
the  brave  are  friends  and  war  and  wounds  are  ban 
ished." 

"  Can  I  not  be  taken  away,  monsieur?  " 

"  No,  no!  On  no  account!  You  must  lie  quite 
still! — I  will  look  in  on  him  to-morrow,  mademoi 
selle,"  said  the  doctor,  turning  to  leave  the  room. 
"  Adieu." 

"  Are  you  dissatisfied  with  your  quarters,  mon 
sieur? — but  you  have  not  told  me  your  name," 
asked  Anne. 

"  I  am  Philip  Grafton,  captain  in  his  Britannic 
Majesty's  navy;  and  you  are " 

"  I  am — Alixe  de  Couedic,  monsieur,  at  your 
service." 

She  gave  him  a  secondary  title  in  her  family,  and 
one  of  her  many  baptismal  names  which  he  had 
never  heard. 

"Ah,  you  remind  me! — but  no — Mademoiselle 
de  Couedic?  Yet,  'tis  a  Breton  name.  Know  you 
the  family  of  de  Rohan,  mademoiselle?  " 

"  They  come  from  Brest  and  Finisterre,  mon 
sieur.  We  are  from  Morbihan." 

There  was  a  little  silence  in  the  room,  and  both 
were  thinking  of  the  old  chateau  and  that  halcyon 


The  guiberon  Touch 

night.  He  looked  again  at  her.  Strange!  Yet  it 
could  not  be!  De  Couedic?  He  did  not  know  the 
name,  and  yet 

"  You  were  speaking  of  Monsieur  de  Vitre  a 
moment  since,  mademoiselle,"  finally  said  Grafton. 

She  noticed  his  voice  was  visibly  stronger  under 
the  doctor's  strengthening  cordial,  and  that  he 
looked  better  already. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur  Grafton,  he  was  at  my  door 
when  you  fell,  dressed  in  the  uniform  of  your  coun 
try.  He  was  recognised.  'Tis  said  that  he  piloted 
the  English  ships  up  the  river,  betraying  his  coun 
try.  The  mob  wanted  to  hang  him." 

"Good  heavens!"  cried  Grafton.  "'Tis  not 
possible!  Here  is  a  deadly  mistake!  Where  did  you 
say  he  was  taken?  " 

"  To  the  Chateau  St.  Louis,  monsieur." 

"  I  must  go  to  him  at  once,  mademoiselle!  "  he 
cried  and  in  spite  of  the  pain  he  tried  to  rise.  "  He 
is  innocent!  He  refused  to  pilot  the  ships!  They 
had  a  rope  about  his  neck  because  he  would  not 
betray  his  country!  " 

"  Can  this  be  true,  monsieur?  " 

"True!"  he  replied.  "I  was  there — I  saw  it 
all!" 

"  But  that  English  uniform?  " 

"  He  evidently  tried  to  escape  in  it,  and  succeed 
ed.  He  is  innocent  of  everything  he  has  been  charged 
with,  and,  so  far  from  being  a  traitor,  he  is  a  hero! 
He  was  in  love  with  some  one  in  Quebec.  He  must 

have  broken  away  from  the  ship  to  come  to 

Ah,  he  was  at  your  door!  You  are  the  lady,  then! 

132 


Grafton  comes  back  to  the  Rose 

What  a  pity!  No,  do  not  detain  me!  Retire,  I  beg 
of  you,  that  I  may  rise  and  go  to  him!  In  the  tem 
per  in  which  they  now  are  they  will  hang  him  out 
right!  " 

"  No,"  answered  the  girl,  rising  herself  and  gen 
tly  forcing  him  back,  "  you  must  not  go!  You  can 
not!  As  you  say,  I  am  the  woman  he  loves,  mon 
sieur,  and  I  will  go!  " 

She  forced  herself  to  make  the  avowal.  Every 
barrier  she  could  imagine  she  would  raise  between 
herself  and  this  young  Englishman,  now  and  of 
old  the  master  of  her  heart.  He  loved  some  one 
else  and  he  was  an  enemy.  She  hated  herself  for 
loving  him,  but  that  she  could  not  help.  At  least 
she  could  conceal  it  and  separate  herself  from 
him. 

"  Tell  them,  on  the  honour  of  an  English  sailor, 
that  he  is  innocent!  Let  the  governor  come  or  send 
an  officer  to  me.  I  will  convince  him!  Make  haste, 
mademoiselle!  "  he  replied. 

"  I  fly,  monsieur." 

"  One  moment!  "  he  cried  impetuously,  catching 
her  dress  as  she  turned  away.  He  must  know. 
This  woman's  looks  tortured  him;  why,  he  knew 
not.  "  Tell  me,  Mademoiselle  de  Couedic,  do  you 
love  him  as  well?  " 

"  Monsieur  forgets  himself!  "  she  cried  imperi 
ously,  yet  her  heart  stood  still.  Was  he  about  to 
recognise  her?  Was  it  joy,  or  fear,  that  filled  her 
soul?  She  continued  hurriedly,  her  voice  soften 
ing  in  spite  of  herself:  "  Release  my  dress,  sir!  But 
there,  I  forgive  you.  You  are  wounded,  ill.  I 

133 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

thank  you  for  saving  my  friend.    Au  revoir.     I  go 
to  save  him,  also." 

She  left  him  a  prey  to  a  strange,  jealous  agony. 
Who  was  she?  Why  did  she  bring  to  mind  the  fig 
ure  of  the  little  girl  in  the  white  robe,  the  little  girl 
with  the  great  eyes,  in  the  dark  tower? 


134 


CHAPTER  XIV 

FIGHT,  RETREAT,  OR  SURRENDER 

THE  Chevalier  de  Ramesay,  the  Governor  of 
Quebec,  sat  alone  in  his  cabinet  in  the  Chateau 
St.  Louis,  gazing  out  across  the  St.  Charles  River  at 
the  exquisite  panorama  spread  before  him.  The  sky 
had  cleared  and  the  sun  was  shining  brilliantly. 
Such  a  picture  was  opened  before  his  vision  as  may 
scarcely  be  seen  elsewhere  in  the  world. 

Beyond  the  gilded  cross  of  the  Jesuit  seminary, 
which  bisected  the'  heavens,  the  horizon  was  softly 
blue  with  the  swelling  curves  of  the  distant  LauT 
rentian  mountains.  The  bold  headland  of  Cap- 
Tourmente,  rising  from  the  water's  edge,  marked 
the  end  of  the  range  on  the  river  side.  Below  him 
spread  the  ancient  lower  town,  now  wrecked  and 
ruined  from  the  constant  bombardment  of  the  Eng 
lish.  Off  to  the  left  across  the  smooth  surface  of  the 
St.  Charles  River  rose  the  gentle  hills  of  the  Beau- 
port  shore,  covered  with  farms,  with  their  stone 
houses  embowered  in  trees,  with  here  and  there  a 
manor.  The  yellow  grain  in  the  fields  was  ready  for 
the  harvesters. 

The  river  bank  was  lined  with  the  tents,  many  of 
them  already  deserted,  of  the  guarding  army.  The 

135 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

foreground  to  the  right  was  broken  by  the  beauti 
fully  wooded  slopes  of  the  Isle  of  Orleans,  and  far 
off  on  the  other  shore  of  the  mighty  St.  Lawrence 
rose  the  bold  promontory  of  Point  Levis.  In  the 
basin  beneath  him,  extending  from  the  Isle  of  Or 
leans  to  the  point,  the  huge  leviathans  of  England, 
the  great  ships  of  the  line,  with  their  bristling  rows 
of  cannon,  swung  at  their  anchors  to  the  tide.  At 
any  moment  they  might  recommence  that  horrible 
hail  of  fire  and  destruction,  which  for  so  many  days 
had  been  poured  upon  the  devoted  town  of  which 
he  was  governor. 

As  he  watched  them  idly,  a  puff  of  smoke  rose 
from  the  battery  on  Point  Levis,  and  presently  the 
faint  roar  of  the  discharge  was  followed  by  the  crash 
of  another  shot  in  the  almost  deserted  lower  town. 
Some  English  gunners  were  trying  their  pieces  now 
and  then,  but  for  the  most  part  the  batteries  were 
silent  that  morning  after  the  infernal  uproar  of  the 
night.  It  was  noon,  and  as  there  was  nothing  being 
done  anywhere,  apparently,  the  calm  and  peace  were 
practically  unbroken. 

It  was  a  scene  to  make  a  painter  rave  and  a  poet 
dream,  but  it  had  no  interest  then  for  de  Ramesay. 
He  sat  at  a  large  table,  leaning  his  head  upon  one 
hand  and  with  the  other  idly  tapping  a  plan  of  the 
city  spread  before  him.  The  room  was  empty,  but 
there  was  enough  perturbation  in  de  Ramesay's 
mind  to  have  filled  a  castle.  Presently  a  young  offi 
cer  entered  and  saluted. 

"  What  says  the  marquis?  "  asked  the  chevalier, 
looking  up. 

136 


Fight,   Retreat,   or  Surrender 

"  He  said,  sir,"  replied  the  young  man  hesitat 
ing,  "  that  you  could  do  as  you  pleased.  He  would 
give  no  further  orders.  He  added  that  he  had  busi 
ness  of  greater  moment — I  quote  his  very  words, 
Monsieur  le  Gouverneur,  craving  your  pardon — 
'  than  this  ruined  garrison  and  this  wretched 
country.'  ' 

"  Mon  Dieu!  What  a  change  in  a  few  hours! 
Yesterday  one  almost  imagined  another  week  would 
see  the  siege  raised,  and  to-day  we  are  defeated,  and 
to-morrow  comes  the  end.  How  did  the  marquis 
seem,  Captain  Rouvigny?  " 

"  In  desperate  case,  sir.    His  affairs  go  badly." 

"  Like  our  own,"  murmured  the  chevalier,  as  the 
captain  continued: 

"  Dr.  Arnoux  says  he  can  not  live  beyond  the 
morrow.  Bishop  Pontbriand  was  already  with 
him." 

There  was  a  little  pause  in  the  room.  The  cheva 
lier  still  played  absently  with  the  map. 

"Poor  man!"  he  said  at  last,  "perhaps,  after 
all,  'tis  better  so.  Death  is  the  last  refuge,  and 
the  best,  for  the  beaten.  Monsieur  de  Vau- 
dreuil,"  he  continued  interrogatively,  "  what  of 
him?  " 

"  Well,  general,  while  I  waited  on  Monsieur  de 
Montcalm,  Captain  Johnstone  came  to  him  from  the 
governor  also  asking  what  should  be  done." 

"  What  reply  gave  the  marquis?  " 

"  Four  words,  sir." 

"  And  they  were " 

"  Fight,  retreat,  or  surrender." 


The  guiberon  Touch 

"  Not  much  comfort  there,"  responded  the 
chevalier,  smiling  ruefully,  "  we  at  least  can  not  de 
sert  our  post,  whatever  de  Vaudreuil  may  do;  and 
i  as  for  fighting,  without  his  army  we  can  not  hold 
the  place  at  all,  especially  with  the  English  in 
trenched  on  the  citadel  side.  Have  they  brought 
up  any  batteries  yet?  " 

"  An  officer  on  the  walls  told  me  that  they  were 
landing  guns  from  the  ships,  sir." 

"  And  our  troops?  " 

"  Dreadfully  disorganized  and  disheartened,  sir." 

"  And  the  militia?  " 

"  A  mere  mob,"  answered  the  captain,  shrug 
ging  his  shoulders  in  disgust. 

"  What  does  de  Vaudreuil  intend  to  do,  I  won 
der?  "  murmured  the  chevalier  at  last,  turning  once 
more  to  the  window  overlooking  Beauport. 

"  Good  heavens!  "  he  cried,  as  his  gaze  fell  on 
the  distant  camps  at  Beauport.  "  Look  yonder! 
What  make  you  of  that,  captain?  " 

"They  are  abandoning  the  intrenchments! 
'Tis  a  retreat,  sir!  "  cried  the  officer,  after  a  quick 
scanning  of  the  prospects  before  them. 

"  The  cowards!  We  are  to  be  left  alone,  then!  " 
exclaimed  the  governor  wrathfully. 

"  An  officer  from  Monsieur  de  Vaudreuil,"  said 
an  orderly,  at  that  moment  entering  the  room. 

"  Admit  him,"  said  de  Ramesay.  "  Ah,  Mon 
sieur  de  Contrecceur!  "  he  remarked,  as  a  young 
man  entered,  bowed,  and  handed  him  a  sealed  pa 
per.  "  Monsieur  de  Vaudreuil  retreats,  then?  " 

"Alas!  yes,  monsieur,"  returned  the  officer. 
138 


Fight,   Retreat,   or  Surrender 

"  Would  to  God  that  Monsieur  de  Levis  were 
here!  What  news  or  orders  for  me,  sir?  " 

"  'Tis  in  the  letter,  sir." 

The  commandant  broke  open  the  packet. 

"  'Tis  a  narrower  choice,"  he  said,  smiling  bit 
terly,  as  he  threw  the  paper  on  the  table  after  he  had 
mastered  the  contents,  "  than  that  offered  us  by 
Monsieur  de  Montcalm.  He  eliminates  retreat 
from  his  possibilities.  Well,  monsieur,  tell  Mon 
sieur  de  Vaudreuil  that  we  will  hold  the  town  so 
long  as  we  can.  And  this  for  your  private  ear:  at 
all  hazard,  get  news  of  our  plight  to  de  Levis! 
Tell  him  that  Montcalm  is  dying,  he  can  not  live 
the  night,  and  the  command  falls  to  him,  and  for 
God's  sake  to  send  succour  to  us!  We  are  starving; 
there  are  no  provisions — not  enough  for  two  days — 
in  the  town!  The  temper ,of  the  colonial  militia  is 
most  uncertain,  and  the  regulars  are  demoralized 
and  smarting  from  the  defeat  of  the  morning.  We 
have  lost  heavily  indeed.  The  walls  on  the  land  side 
are  hardly  capable  of  defence.  Good-day,  sir,  and 
God  speed!  Now,Rouvigny,we  still  have  something 
to  do.  Let  de  Vitre,  who  was  taken  a  few  moments 
since,  be  brought  into  the  audience  chamber.  Sum 
mon  the  officers  of  my  staff  to  attend  me  there.  We 
have  at  least  time  to  give  short  shrift  to  a  traitor  be 
fore  the  English  are  upon  us." 


139 


CHAPTER    XV 

GRAFTON    TO    THE    RESCUE 

ATTENDED  by  his  captors,  Denis  de  Vitre,  in  the 
hateful  uniform  of  the  English  army,  stood  bound 
and  facing  the  governor  and  his  staff  in  the  great 
hall  of  the  castle.  The  sunlight  sparkled  in  through 
the  long,  narrow  lancet  windows  with  their  leaded, 
diamond-shaped  panes,  and  made  strange  traceries 
upon  the  polished  oaken  floor.  Pictures  of  the  for 
mer  governors  of  New  France  looked  down  upon 
the  little  scene  from  the  walls.  There  was  the  daunt 
less  Champlain,  the  veteran  La  Barre,  the  courtly 
du  Quesne,  and,  conspicuous  among  the  rest,  the 
grim,  eagle-like  figure  of  the  greatest  of  all — old 
Frontenac.  The  history  of  the  province  was  some 
how  summed  up  in  that  old  vaulted  chamber,  and 
de  Vitre  felt  as  if  he  were  on  trial  before  the  hero 
ism  of  the  past  as  well  as  the  disorganization  of 
the  present. 

"  Monsieur  de  Vitre,  you  are  accused  of  having 
betrayed  your  country  by  piloting  the  English  ships 
up  the  river,"  began  the  governor. 

"  And  who  is  my  accuser,  Monsieur  de  Rame- 
say?  "  answered  de  Vitre  boldly. 

"  Common  report." 

140 


Grafton  to  the  Rescue 

"  And  does  common  report,  sir,  outweigh  the 
word  of  honour  of  an  officer  and  a  gentleman?  " 

"  Do  you  deny  the  charge,  monsieur?  " 

"  Sir,  upon  my  word  of  honour,  I  declare  it  to  be 
false  in  every  particular!  " 

"  But,  sir,  you  were  seen,  recognised  by  officers 
stationed  on  Cap-Tourmente,  on  the  forward  part  of 
the  first  English  ship  to  pass  the  promontory. 
There  was  a  group  of  English  officers  around  you. 
You  seemed  to  be  pointing — is  it  not  so,  Major 
St.  Luc?  " 

"  It  is  indeed  true,  sir.  I  saw  Monsieur  de  Vitre 
myself,"  answered  the  officer  promptly. 

"  If  Monsieur  St.  Luc  had  seen  me  one  half 
hour  sooner  he  would  have  noticed  me  standing 
on  the  rail  of  the  ship  with  a  rope  around  my  neck, 
about  to  be  hanged  as  a  common  felon  for  refusing 
to  show  the  way  to  the  English." 

"  Can  this  be  true,  sir?  "  asked  the  governor  in 
surprise. 

"  On  my  faith  it  is.    I  give  you  my  word,  sir." 

"  We  don't  accept  the  word  of  a  man  accused  of 
treachery,  sir.  Although  I  have  no  doubt  you  were 
on  the  rail,  as  you  say,  yet  I  have  also  no  doubt  but 
that  the  presence  of  the  rope  proved  efficacious." 

"  Mon  Dieu,  what  an  infamous  charge!  "  cried 
de  Vitre,  white  with  rage  and  passion  at  this  insult, 
striving  to  break  away  from  his  guards. 

The  governor  watched  him  coolly  until  he 
ceased  to  struggle;  then,  nonchalantly  taking  a 
pinch  of  snuff: 

"  Be  calm,  monsieur,"  he  added.  "  I  might  have 
141 


The  (Juiberon   Touch 

taken  your  word,  but  there  is  another  circumstance 
which  must  be  explained,  and  which  makes  it  diffi 
cult  to  credit  your  story.  The  dress  you  wear — it  is 
an  English  coat." 

"  May  it  please  Monsieur  le  Gouverneur,"  spoke 
up  the  sergeant,  "  I  saw  him  in  the  front  rank  of  the 
English  as  they  charged  us.  He  carried  a  musket 
in  his  hand." 

"  That  is  true,"  answered  de  Vitre,  "  I  was 
there." 

"  Did  you  discharge  the  musket?  " 

"  Yes,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier — that  is,  I  had 
done  so." 

"  At  the  troops  of  France?  " 

"  Yes,  but " 

A  roar  of  rage  swept  through  the  hall  as  the 
men  heard  this  damning  admission. 

"  Why  hear  any  more,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier?  " 
burst  out  Captain  Rouvigny,  voicing  the  thought  of 
the  others.  "  If  he  be  not  a  self-convicted  traitor, 
let  him  be  shot  as  a  deserter." 

"Messieurs,  you  must  hear  me!  You  shall!" 
exclaimed  de  Vitre.  "  I  have  been  a  prisoner  in  the 
English  fleet.  Through  the  connivance  of  a  soldier 
in  their  marine  I  procured  this  uniform.  I  escaped 
from  the  ship  last  night.  I  hoped  to  reach  the  town 
and  warn  you  and  Monsieur  de  Montcalm  of  the 
expected  attack  on  the  town  before  morning,  but  I 
found  it  impossible  to  get  away.  I  was  compelled 
to  stay  in  the  ranks,  and  with  difficulty  escaped  de 
tection.  I  posed  as  a  renegade  or  I  would  have 
been  killed  out  of  hand.  My  gun  was  not  loaded 

142 


Grafton  to  the  Rescue 

with  ball.  I  looked  carefully  to  that,  gentlemen. 
I  swear  to  you  I  threw  it  away  at  the  first  moment 
and  ran  to  join  my  friends.  As  there  is  a  God  in 
heaven,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier,  I  speak  the  truth! 
I  beg  you  to  hold  me  until  you  can  communicate 
with  the  English  and  verify  my  statement." 

"  We  can  not  hold  the  town  a  week,  Monsieur  de 
Vitre,"  returned  the  governor  quickly.  "  And  to 
defer  your  punishment  until  the  English  take  us 
would  mean  to  let  you  escape  scot-free.  Frankly,  I 
do  not  believe  your  story.  What  say  you,  gentle 
men?  " 

"  No,  no,  he  is  a  traitor!  Away  with  him!  "  cried 
one  and  another. 

"  Gentlemen,  if  I  ever  escape  from  this  predica 
ment,"  answered  de  Vitre  boldly,  "  rest  assured  that 
you  shall  answer  to  me  for  your  words  and  actions!  " 

"  This  is  idle  talk,  monsieur,"  said  the  governor 
severely;  "as  the  commandant  of  the  garrison  I 
shall  order  you  to  be  shot  at  once,  upon  your  own 
admissions,  which  you  have  failed  to  explain  to  our 
satisfaction,  if  there  is  no  one  here  who  will  protest, 
or  say  a  word  in  your  defence." 

"  I  will  do  that,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier!  "  a  clear 
voice  cried  out  from  the  other  end  of  the  hall,  as 
Anne  de  Rohan,  followed  by  Josette,  entered  the 
door  and  advanced  before  the  chevalier. 

"  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan!  "  exclaimed  the  gov 
ernor  in  great  surprise,  rising  to  his  feet  the  while, 
and  bowing  profoundly  before  her,  a  movement 
which,  of  course,  was  emulated  by  all  the  officers. 
"  Here  is  no  place  for  ladies." 


The  (Juiberon  Touch 

"  I  am  a  witness  in  the  case,  Monsieur  de  Rame- 
say.  Am  I  in  time  to  save  the  life  and  honour  of 
a  brave  man?  " 

"  Time  serves  you,  mademoiselle,  but  otherwise 
your  effort  is  impossible.  Monsieur  de  Vitre  was 
seen  this  morning  in  the  English  ranks  in  their  uni 
form — indeed  he  has  it  on  now.  He  bore  arms 
against  us  in  the  field.  He  admits  it.  He  is  believed 
to  have  acted  as  pilot  for  the  English  ships." 

"  Tis  false,  sir!  "  interrupted  the  girl. 

"Thank  God  for  that  word,  mademoiselle!" 
cried  de  Vitre.  "  If  you  believe  in  me  I  can  face  the 
rest  of  the  world  undaunted." 

"  Silence,  Monsieur  de  Vitre! — Why  say  you 
this,  mademoiselle?  "  asked  the  governor. 

"  Because  there  is  an  English  officer  wounded 
and  a  prisoner  in  my  house,  who  has  learned  by 
chance  of  Monsieur  de  Vitre's  predicament  and  who 
vows  that  he  is  innocent;  that  he  did  not  pilot  the 
ships;  that  he  refused  to  do  so  even  at  the  peril  of  his 
life,  and  that  he  had  been  held  a  close  prisoner  on 
the  English  ship's  since  his  capture." 

"  Mademoiselle,"  the  governor  questioned, 
"  how  comes  there  to  be  an  English  prisoner  in 
your  house?  " 

"  One  of  your  horsemen  cut  him  down  on  the 
field,  monsieur,  picked  him  up  on  his  horse  and 
carried  him  into  the  street,  and  dropped  him  before 
my  door,  thinking  him  dead.  Monsieur  de  Vitre, 
who  was  captured  there  by  these  soldiers,  saw  him 
as  he  was  being  taken  away  and  told  me  to  take  care 
of  him  as  he  was  his  friend." 

144 


Grafton  to  the  Rescue 

"Friend  to  an  Englishman!"  shouted  one  of 
the  impetuous  officers.  "  Another  confirmation!  " 

"  Silence!  "  cried  the  governor.  "  Proceed, 
mademoiselle." 

"  Dr.  Arnoux  dressed  the  young  Englishman's 
wounds.  He  is  a  captain  in  the  English  navy. 
When  he  recovered  consciousness  I  mentioned 
Monsieur  de  Vitre's  predicament,  and  he  insisted 
that  I  must  come  to  tell  you  this  story,  and  if  you 
doubted  it  I  was  to  ask  you  to  send  an  officer  to 
question  him." 

"  Why  came  he  not  himself,  then?  " 

"  He  is  too  severely  wounded,  sir,  and  the  doctor 
forbade  him  to  move." 

"  Be  seated,  mademoiselle.  Let  us  withdraw, 
gentlemen,  and  consider  this  communication  for  a 
moment,"  said  the  governor,  after  reflecting  deeply 
for  a  short  time. 

The  Chevalier  de  Ramesay  and  his  officers 
stepped  to  the  other  end  of  the  apartment  and  in 
tently  consulted  together,  leaving  Anne  standing 
near  de  Vitre  and  his  guards. 

"  O  mademoiselle,"  cried  de  Vitre  to  her,  ad 
dressing  her  despite  the  presence  of  the  soldiers, 
"  this  is  a  public  place  in  which  to  address  you,  but 
I  stand  in  the  shadow  of  death  and  I  must  needs  take 
any  opportunity  which  fate  provides  me.  You  have 
long  known  of  my  devotion  to  you.  I  have  not 
disguised  it  nor  do  I  wish  to  make  further  protesta 
tions  to  you.  I  only  want  to  thank  you,  as  a  man 
dying,  for  the  brave  stand  you  have  taken  in  attempt 
ing  to  save  not  only  my  life,  but  what  is  dearer  to 

145 


The  <J)uiberon  Touch 

me — my  honour.  Thank  Captain  Grafton,  too,  for 
his  good  words,  though  I  feel  they  will  be  useless. 
The  evidence  against  me  is  strong.  This  cursed  uni 
form  is  the  last  straw.  Rankling  under  the  defeat  of 
the  morning,  and  with  the  certainty  of  surrender 
before  them,  they  are  too  bitter  to  weigh  well  what 
they  are  doing.  They  want  a  scapegoat,  and  here  is 
one  ready  to  hand.  Mademoiselle,  one  last  favour. 
It  means  but  little  perhaps  to  you  but  much  to  me. 
I  can  not  go  to  you.  Will  you  not  reach  hither  your 
hand?  " 

"They  must  not  kill  you,  Monsieur  de  Vitre! 
'Tis  most  unjust!"  cried  the  girl  piteously,  step 
ping  over  to  him.  "  As  for  my  hand — "  She 
stretched  it  out,  and,  though  he  was  bound  and 
tied,  nothing  could  have  exceeded  the  courtly 
grace  with  which  he  bent  over  it  and  pressed  a 
long  kiss  upon  it.  She  held  it  tightly  against  his 
lips. 

"  There  is  my  hand,  monsieur!  "  she  exclaimed, 
as  the  soldiers  withdrew  a  little,  out  of  consideration 
for  her  evident  grief.  "  I  would  that  my  heart  went 
with  it." 

"  Monsieur  de  Vitre,  mademoiselle,"  said  the 
governor,  returning  to  his  seat,  "  we  have  carefully 
considered  the  testimony  of  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan 
and  are  of  the  opinion  that  it  is  not  sufficiently  im 
portant  to  cause  us  to  delay  the  execution.  I  fear 
that  a  few  days  may  see  the  English  in  posses 
sion  of  the  town,  and  that,  of  course,  means  that 
you,  sir,  would  escape  all  punishment.  As  for  the 
testimony  of  the  English  officer,  he  is  in  honour 

146 


Grafton  to  the  Rescue 

bound  to  extricate  his  ally  from  his  predicament,  and 
we  question " 

"  Who  questions  the  word  of  Captain  Philip 
Grafton?  "  cried  a  stern  voice,  as  a  strangely  ill- 
assorted  pair  entered  the  hall.  One  of  the  two  was 
a  small  slender  man,  only  partially  clothed,  whose 
face  was  ghastly  pale  and  who  held  his  left  hand 
pressed  against  his  right  shoulder.  He  would  have 
fallen  to  the  floor  but  that  he  was  supported  by  the 
encircling  arm  of  a  huge  old  man  in  the  livery  of 
the  Rohans.  The  two  were  Philip  and  Jean-Re- 
naud. 

"  Graiton!  "  cried  de  Vitre.  "  Thank  God,  you 
have  come!  " 

"  Jean-Renaud,"  exclaimed  Anne,  "  how  dared 
you  to  bring  this  gentleman  here!  Against  the 
doctor's  orders  and  mine!  His  life " 

"  Peace,  mademoiselle!  "  interrupted  Grafton. 
"  I  came  here  because  I  feared  what  has  happened, 
that  they  would  not  accept  your  testimony.  Your 
servant  but  obeyed  my  orders,  he  had  no  choice!  " 

"  But  your  life,  monsieur!  "  said  Anne. 

"  I  peril  it  gladly  to  save  the  honour  of  a  brave 
gentleman,  though  an  enemy.  Monsieur  le  Gou- 
verneur,  you  are  about  to  execute  this  gentleman?  " 

There  was  a  dead  silence  in  the  room. 

"  It  is  true,"  answered  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan. 

"  It  must  not  go  on!  "  cried  Grafton.  "  I  swear 
to  you  on  my  honour  as  an  English  gentleman  that 
Monsieur  de  Vitre  is  innocent!  He  is  no  traitor; 
on  the  contrary,  he  deserves  your  highest  commen 
dation.  He  refused  to  pilot  the  ships  in,  even 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

though,  by  the  orders  of  the  admiral,  he  was  placed 
on  the  rail  of  the  ship  with  a  rope  flung  around  his 
neck,  and  men  awaited  the  signal  to  hang  him." 

Murmurs  rose  from  the  officers  in  the  hall. 

"  Why  was  he  not  hanged,  then,  Sir  English 
man?  "  asked  the  governor. 

"  Because  an  English  officer  interfered,  one  who 
hated  to  see  a  brave  man  sacrificed,  and  through  his 
influence  with  the  general,  who  was  his  friend,  and 
the  admiral,  who  is  his  captain,  he  saved  Monsieur 
de  Vitre's  life." 

"  Do  you  know  this  to  be  a  fact,  monsieur?  " 

"  I  do,  monsieur." 

"  Who  was  the  officer  that  saved  his  life?  " 

It    T     » 

The  truth  in  the  answer  was  patent  in  every  line 
of  the  blood-stained  figure.  There  was  a  burst  of 
applause  from  the  officers  in  the  room  as  his  words 
carried  conviction  to  their  hearts. 

"  Who  piloted  the  ships,  then?  " 

"  Some  fishermen,  and  some  of  us  came  up  the 
river  without  a  pilot." 

"  But  this  uniform?  " 

"  I  have  no  doubt  that  Monsieur  de  Vitre  can 
explain  that.  I  know  that  last  night  he  was  held 
a  close  prisoner  on  the  Sutherland." 

"  Monsieur,  forgive  the  question.  I  wish  to  be 
quite  certain.  You  are  not  saying  this  to  save  an 
ally?  " 

"  Sir,  I  have  given  you  my  word  of  honour,  the 
word  of  an  officer  of  the  King.  As  God  is  my  judge, 
sir,  I  have  told  the  truth !  Hold  Monsieur  de  Vitre 

148 


Grafton   to  the  Rescue 

until  you  can  communicate  with  Admiral  Saunders 
or  General  Townshend.  Send  out  a  special  flag 
now,  and  if  the  facts  be  not  as  I  have  stated  I  will 
answer  for  them  with  my  own  life.  You  hold  me 
prisoner,  sir.  I  am  alone  in  your  power.  I  would 
stake  anything  upon  de  Vitre's  honour.  Indeed  " — 
he  turned  pale  and  caught  at  his  breast  again  where 
the  red  stains  showed  under  his  hand — "  I  believe 
that  I  have  staked  my  life — for " 

He  stopped,  his  glance  wavered  toward  Anne. 

"  For  you — your  lover — mademoiselle!  " 

He  swayed  back  and  forth  and  fell  heavily  to  the 
floor  at  her  feet. 

"  Release  Monsieur  de  Vitre!  "  cried  de  Rame- 
say. 

Anne  de  Rohan  instantly  sank  to  the  floor  and 
knelt  by  the  prostrate  form  of  the  English  captain. 

"  Ah,  mon  Dieu!  "  she  cried.     "  He  is  dying!  " 

There  was  a  look  on  her  face,  in  her  eyes,  for 
which  de  Vitre  would  have  given  all  he  possessed. 
As  the  soldiers  unbound  him,  he  sprang  to  her  side. 

"  You  love  him!  "  he  cried.    "  You  love  him!  " 


149 


CHAPTER    XVI 

"  THOU    SHALT    NOT    COVET " 

ANNE  DE  ROHAN  had  admitted  to  herself  as  she 
had  watched  Grafton  before  he  recovered  conscious 
ness  that  she  loved  him.  If  there  had  been  any 
doubt  in  her  mind  of  the  permanence  of  her  feelings 
of  bygone  days  and  their  development  from  the 
childish  devotion  to  the  deep  passionate  love  which 
filled  her  soul,  the  tell-tale  kiss  she  had  pressed  upon 
his  forehead  when  she  thought  him  dying  would 
have  undeceived  her.  And  she  realized  it  more  en 
tirely  at  that  moment  when  she  saw  him  lying  white 
and  still  at  her  feet  in  the  hall.  That  something  of 
her  feeling  had  expressed  itself  in  her  looks  she  did 
not  doubt. 

But  it  is  one  thing  to  admit  a  fact  in  the  secret 
recesses  of  one's  own  consciousness,  or  even  to  look 
one's  feelings,  and  another  to  have  it  proclaimed  on 
the  housetops.  She  bitterly  resented  de  Vitre's  im 
pulsive  allegation,  and  that  it  was  true  but  en 
hanced  her  indignation  against  him  and  against  her 
self.  How  could  she,  a  de  Rohan,  love  this  com 
moner  of  America?  How  could  she,  a  French  wom 
an,  bestow  her  affection  upon  an  enemy?  How 
could  she  give  her  heart  to  a  man  who  wore  an- 

150 


"  Thou  shalt  not   Covet  " 

other  woman's  picture  above  his  own?  Everything 
stood  in  the  way  of  any  future  relationship  whatever 
between  them. 

And  yet  how  magnificently  he  had  come  to  the 
rescue  of  de  Vitre!  How  nobly  he  had  stood  forth 
in  the  hall  a  moment  since!  O  God,  it  was  true! 
She  had  betrayed  herself;  the  world  would  know 
that  she  had  given  away  her  love  to  this  English 
officer — an  enemy.  She  felt  and  saw  the  pointing 
fingers  of  her  society;  she  heard  the  word  "Trai 
tress!  Traitress!  "  in  the  air.  She  would  not,  she 
could  not! 

Yet,  how  he  had  looked  at  her  when  he  clutched 
her  dress  with  that  fevered  .question,  "  Are  you  in 
love  with  Monsieur  de  Vitre?  "  She  was  afraid  of 
herself.  If  he  should  recognise  her  and  plead  with 
her  could  she  resist  him?  No,  she  feared  not,  she 
was  sure  she  could  not.  She  loved  him  too  well  to 
do  so.  Of  that  point  she  was  absolutely  certain,  and 
of  another  fact  consequent  upon  the  first,  as  well. 
She  did  not  love  Denis  de  Vitre.  She  admired,  re 
spected,  esteemed,  even  liked  him — but  love,  no. 
And  yet  here  was  a  safeguard.  Betrothed  to  him 
she  could  better  struggle  against  the  pleadings  of 
her  heart.  She  did  not  yet  realize  what  her  long- 
dormant  feelings  toward  Philip  would  be,  or  how 
powerful  a  hold  he  was  to  have  upon  her. 

She  would  make  the  sacrifice,  she  swiftly  re 
solved.  She  was  sadly  compromised  in  her  society, 
anyway,  by  her  visit  to  the  chateau  and  by  her  pub 
lic  advocacy  of  de  Vitre.  As  for  the  rest,  he  was  a 
gentleman  of  position  and  rank,  originally  of  a  Bre- 

151 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

ton  family  scarcely  less  ancient  than  her  own.  He 
had  given  evidence  of  his  heroism,  and  he  loved 
France.  She  would  do  it — to  protect  herself 
against  Grafton.  De  Vitre  should  be  her  anchor. 

As  these  thoughts  passed  with  the  rapidity  of 
lightning  itself  through  her  brain,  she  rose  to  her 
feet,  leaving  Grafton,  who  already  showed  signs  of 
returning  consciousness,  to  the  ministrations  of 
Jean-Renaud  and  Josette.  Better  make  assurance 
double  sure  against  her  heart. 

"  Monsieur  de  Vitre,"  she  exclaimed,  clearly 
enough  to  be  heard  by  all  the  room,  "  you  forget 
yourself!  How  could  I  love  this  stranger,  an  enemy 
of  France?  You  are  not  yourself;  these  trials  have 
bewildered  you,  and  I  have  but  one  answer  to  your 
charge.  You  have  asked  me  again  and  again  to — 
to — in  short,  monsieur,  are  you  still " 

"  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan  !  "  cried  de  Vitre, 
clasping  her  hand,  "  is  it — will  you " 

"  Monsieur,  I  esteem  you,  I  regard  you,  I  ad 
mire  you.  I  am  willing,  with  the  consent  of  my 
grandfather  the  marquis — to — be " 

"  Monsieur  de  Ramesay,"  cried  de  Vitre,  turn 
ing  to  the  little  group,  who  had  been  regarding  the 
couple  intently,  "  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan  makes 
me  the  happiest  of  men!  She  deigns  to  honour  me 
by  promising  me  her  hand." 

"  Look  to  your  English  friend,  Monsieur  de 
Vitre."  promptly  answered  the  governor,  "  and 
quickly!  " 

"  Maledictions  upon  me!  "  cried  de  Vitre,  kneel 
ing  beside  the  two  servants.  "  A  surgeon,  quick!  " 

152 


"  Thou  shalt  not  Covet  " 

The  physician,  who  had  been  previously  sum 
moned,  was  speedily  forthcoming,  and  under  his 
ministrations  the  flow  of  blood  was  stanched  and 
Grafton  presently  opened  his  eyes  again. 

"  My  friend,"  cried  de  Vitre,  as  Grafton  recov 
ered  consciousness,  "what  can  I  say?  What  can  I 
do  to  repay  you?  On  the  ship  yonder  you  saved 
my  life.  A  moment  since,  in  this  hall,  you  saved  my 
honour,  and  I  believe  it  is  to  you  I  owe  my  greatest 
happiness." 

"  And  what  is  that?  "  whispered  Grafton. 

"  Mademoiselle  has  consented  to  do  me  the 
honour  of  becoming  my  wife." 

"Ah!  "  exclaimed  Grafton,  as  if  stricken  again. 

"  What  is  it,  what  is  it?  "  cried  the  Frenchman, 
"  what  can  I  do?  " 

"  You  might  have  let  me  die,  de  Vitre.  But 
there,  'tis  nothing.  Take  me  hence." 

"  Where  will  you  be  taken,  monsieur?  "  asked 
the  governor. 

"  He  shall  go  back  to  my  house,"  interrupted 
Anne,  "  whence  he  came.  And  you,  Monsieur  de 
Vitre,  will  accompany " 

"  Your  pardon,  mademoiselle,"  said  de  Rame- 
say,  "  I  believe  Monsieur  de  Vitre  to  be  innocent  of 
all  the  charges  that  have  been  made  against  him,  but 
my  duty  compels  me  to  detain  him  in  the  castle  until 
I  can  communicate  with  the  English.  One  of  my 
aides  will  accompany  you  home." 

"  'Tis  useless,  sir.  I  have  here  a  faithful  guard. 
If  you  will  have  some  of  your  soldiers  bring  a  litter 
to  carry  Monsieur  Grafton,  it  will  be  enough." 

11  153 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

"  Watch  over  him  well,  mademoiselle!  "  cried  de 
Vitre,  as  the  soldiers  bore  him  from  the  room.  "  I 
owe  him  much — everything!  " 

"  Trust  me,  monsieur,"  replied  the  young  girl. 
"  Monsieur  le  Gouverneur,  Lieutenant  de  Vitre, 
gentlemen,  I  bid  you  adieu!  " 

With  a  sweeping  courtesy  she  left  the  room. 

Attended  by  Josette  and  guarded  by  Jean-Re- 
naud,  with  brimming  eyes  and  a  leaden  heart  in  her 
bosom,  she  walked  by  the  litter  as  the  soldiers  bore 
it  through  the  street.  With  downcast  head  she 
moved,  yet  no  movement  of  her  wounded  charge 
escaped  her.  Grafton  lay  on  the  stretcher  with  his 
eyes  closed.  Once,  as  the  bearers  stumbled,  he 
opened  them  with  a  sharp  exclamation  of  pain.  In 
stantly  she  bent  over  him.  As  her  gaze  fell  upon 
his  face  he  slowly  turned  his  head  away,  as  if  the 
sight  were  too  much  for  him  and  he  could  not  bear 
to  look  upon  her. 

"  Are  you  in  pain,  monsieur?  " 

"Ah,  Mademoiselle  de  Couedic!"  he  an 
swered,  "  such  pain  as  I  trust  you  may  never 
know." 

"  Why  did  you  turn  your  head  from  me?  " 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  answered  softly,  still  not 
looking  at  her,  "  I  am  thinking  of  some  pregnant 
words  in  an  old  book  which  I  had  read  to  me  when 
I  was  a  child." 

"  And  those  words,  monsieur?  " 

'  Thou  shalt  not  covet.'    You  understand  the 
English?  "  he  whispered. 

"  I  understand — everything,  monsieur." 

154 


"Thou  shalt  not  Covet v 

"  Monsieur  de  Vitre,"  said  the  governor,  "  if 
you  give  me  your  parole  you  may  have  the  freedom 
of  the  chateau.  I  congratulate  you  first  upon  your 
acquittal,  and  more,  monsieur,  upon  the  prize  you 
have  gained.  Faith,  sir,  yours  is  like  to  be  the  one 
victory  of  the  arms  of  France!  Your  hand,  young 
sir." 

"  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  has  insulted  me,"  an 
swered  de  Vitre,  folding  his  arms  and  bowing. 
"  He  has  accused  me  of  treachery;  he  has  doubted 
my  word.  He  has  ordered  me  to  be  shot.  I  owe 
nothing  to  Monsieur  de  Ramesay.  I  can  not  take 
his  hand." 

"  Tut,  tut,  boy !  "  cried  the  governor.  "  I  am 
old  enough  to  be  your  father.  If  I  did  these  things 
it  was  because  I  believed  it  necessary  for  the  pro 
tection  of  the  state.  Come,  I  knew  your  father. 
You  can't  refuse  an  old  man,  who  acknowledges 
that  he  was  wrong;  who  says — hard  words  for  a  sol 
dier,  my  young  friend — that  he  is  sorry.  Your 
hand,  sir." 

"  And  my  heart,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier!  "  cried 
de  Vitre,  impulsively  springing  forward. 

"  Ah,  that's  well!  "  answered  the  governor  smil 
ing.  "  It  strikes  me  that  you  ought  to  be  happy 
rather  than  anything  else  over  the  affair.  You  are 
rehabilitated,  and  you  have  gained  the  fairest  and 
sweetest  woman  in  New  France  for  a  wife.  Is  it 
not  so,  gentlemen?  " 

"  Monsieur  de  Vitre,"  said  Captain  Rouvigny, 
shamefacedly,  "  in  behalf  of  my  comrades  here,  I 
humbly  tender  you  our  apologies,  and  beg  you  to 

155 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

vouchsafe  to  us  your  forgiveness  while  you  accept 
our  congratulations.  On  my  word,  sir,  there  is  not 
a  man  in  the  room  who  does  not  envy  you,  and 
no  one  is  here  who  would  not  gladly  stand  with  a 
halter  around  his  neck  if  it  were  to  be  taken  from 
his  shoulders  by  the  fair  hands  of  Mademoiselle  de 
Rohan." 

"  Messieurs,"  returned  de  Vitre  sternly  and 
coldly,  "  you  are  not  old  soldiers,  friends  of  my 
father,  and  I  decline." 

"  Very  well,"  broke  in  Rouvigny,  his  cheek 
flushing,  "  if  you  will  have  it  so,  monsieur,  I  and 
all  of  us  are  at  your  service." 

"  Will  some  gentleman  lend  me  his  sword?  " 
cried  de  Vitre.  "  Ah,  thank  you!  "  he  exclaimed, 
seizing  the  nearest  one  of  many  proffered  him. 
"  You  first,  Monsieur  Rouvigny.  On  guard!  " 

"  Messieurs,"  cried  the  governor,  who  had 
watched  the  whole  scene  with  much  amusement,  "  is 
this  the  time  for  private  brawling?  Put  up  your 
swords,  both  of  you!  Here,  Captain  Rouvigny! 
Monsieur  de  Vitre,  I  command  you!  New  France 
at  this  hour  hath  sore  need  for  every  sword  and 
every  hand.  Our  affairs  are  desperate.  Monsieur 
de  Montcalm  dies,  Monsieur  de  Vaudreuil  abandons 
us.  We  starve  alone  in  this  wretched,  doomed  town! 
Forgive  these  gentlemen,  de  Vitre.  They  had  no 
personal  animus.  They  but  spoke  from  their  sol 
dierly  sense  of  duty.  'Twas  love  of  country  moved 
them,  as  it  has  moved  you.  Hands  all,  gentlemen! 
What,  you  hesitate!  This  is  twice  this  day  I  have 
stooped  to  plead!  Ah,  that's  well,  messieurs!  Join 

156 


"Thou  shalt  not  Covet" 

with  me  in  the  old  cry,  Vive  la  nouvelle  France! 
Now  to  the  walls  with  you!  Monsieur  de  Vitre, 
though  I  restrain  you  to  the  chateau  for  the  present, 
you  may  still  be  of  service  to  me — to  the  state. 
Attend  me  in  my  cabinet,  I  pray  you." 


157 


BOOK    IV 

LOVE   WILL  HAVE  ITS   WAY 


CHAPTER  -XVII 

RECOGNITION 

GRAFTON  still  lay  on  the  great  bed  in  the  upper 
chamber,  although  it  was  the  evening  after  the  day 
of  the  battle  and  the  visit  to  the  chateau.  He  had 
been  promptly  put  there  again  by  the  faithful  Jean- 
Renaud  when  his  bearers  had  reached  the  house, 
and  after  a  quiet  night  and  a  long  day  of  perfect  rest 
he  felt  much  better.  Dr.  Arnoux,  who  had  called  to 
see  him  in  the  morning,  had  reprehended  him  se 
verely  for  his  excursion  of  the  day  before.  Al 
though  the  surgeon  had  been  filled  with  generous 
admiration  at  the  devotion  and  courage  Grafton  had 
exhibited  in  behalf  of  de  Vitre  in  the  chateau,  he 
had  strictly  forbidden  him  to  rise  again  from  the 
bed  for  some  time  at  least.  With  the  remembrance 
of  his  unfortunate  collapse  in  the  chateau  at  the  trial 
of  de  Vitre,  the  Englishman  was  inclined  to  heed 
his  advice.  Indeed,  he  could  do  no  less,  since  his 
uniform,  as  a  further  preventive,  had  been  taken 
away  by  Jean-Renaud  under  the  orders  of  Made 
moiselle  de  Rohan. 

The  tedium  of  the  day  had  been  relieved  by  two 
158 


Recognition 


short  visits  from  the  mistress  of  the  household. 
Had  she  consulted  her  inclination  only,  she  would 
not  have  left  him  for  a  moment,  but  she  did  not  dare 
trust  herself  long  in  his  presence.  Yet  bare  hos 
pitality,  the  consideration  due  a  sick  man  whom  fate 
had  thrown  upon  her  hands,  constrained  her  at  least 
to  inquire  as  to  his  health  and  to  supervise  in  per 
son  the  meagre  arrangements  which  the  strait 
ened  circumstances  necessitated  by  the  rigorous 
siege  of  Quebec  permitted  her  to  make  for  his  com 
fort. 

Her  visits  had  been  brief,  however,  and  while 
they  lasted  she  had  deliberately  stood  in  the  shadow 
of  the  bed-curtains,  so  that  no  opportunity  for  a  fair 
look  upon  her  face  had  been  vouchsafed  him — a 
thing  he  was  thirsting  for  and  yet  which  he  felt  ut 
terly  unable  to  bring  about.  Indeed,  his  thoughts 
had  been  so  busy  with  her  personality  and  her  image, 
that  the  time,  which  might  have  dragged  as  only 
time  can  linger,  leaden-footed  in  the  sick  chamber, 
had  passed  before  he  noticed  it. 

Yet  he  was  very  dissatisfied  with  the  situation. 
There  was  something  about  the  young  demoiselle 
which  moved  him  powerfully,  something  he  could 
not  explain.  The  thought  of  her  betrothal  to  de 
Vitre  filled  him  with  a  certain  jealous  dismay — he 
could  not  exactly  tell  why.  It  was  hardly  possible 
he  could  be  in  love  with  her  himself,  a  girl  he  had 
seen  but  a  day  since!  He  seemed  to  have  known,  or 
to  have  met  her  before,  though.  How  was  it?  De 
Couedic!  And  yet 

But  what  could  he  do?    Nothing.    He  was  mas- 

159 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

terof  himself  now — in  the  full  possession  of  his  facul 
ties,  with  no  excuse  of  weakness,  wounds,  or  fever, 
that  is — and  there  could  be  no  possible  reason  for  so 
personal  an  appeal  to  her  as  he  had  made  when  in 
fevered  confusion  he  had  asked  her  if  she  loved  de 
Vitre. 

During  the  day  he  was  attended  by  a  strange 
servant,  and  saw  neither  Jean-Renaud  nor  Josette, 
either  of  whom  might  have  enlightened  him  had  not 
both  been  kept  from  him  by  the  orders  of  their  mis 
tress.  The  conversation  between  the  two,  therefore, 
on  the  occasion  of  these  two  visits  was  necessarily 
brief:  confined  on  her  part  to  inquiries  as  to  his  well- 
being,  his  needs,  and  desires,  and  upon  his  part  to 
expressions  of  gratitude  for  her  kindness,  and  ear 
nest  deprecations  of  the  trouble  he  was  giving  her 
and  her  household. 

As  for  her,  every  time  she  approached  him  she 
longed  to  declare  herself.  With  the  passionate  aban 
don  of  a  French  woman  who  loved  literally  for  the 
first  time,  who  found  herself  in  the  actual  presence 
of  a  long-cherished  ideal,  before  a  realization  of  her 
girlish  and  maidenly  dreams,  she  would  fain  have 
thrown  herself  upon  his  breast — into  his  arms.  She 
longed  to  gather  him  to  her  heart  and  lavish  upon 
him  those  treasures  of  affection  which  all  the  gal 
lantry,  courage,  and  devotion  of  de  Vitre  could  not 
evoke.  And  all  this  in  the  face  of  the  keen  jealousy 
she  suffered  over  the  locket  he  wore,  and  the  resent 
ment  she  felt,  in  despite  of  the  precautions  she  took 
to  prevent  it,  that  he  had  not  recognised  her — which 
was  unreasonable  but  essentially  feminine. 

160 


Recognition 


But  she  had  controlled  herself  like  an  American. 
The  marquis  himself  could  not  have  been  more  cool 
ly  and  coldly  polite  than  she.  As  for  Grafton,  he 
had  not  yet,  to  use  his  own  expression,  "  got  his 
bearings."  Never  in  his  life  had  he  been  so  moved 
by  the  presence  of  a  woman  as  during  the  last  two 
days.  He  could  hardly  reason  about  it  clearly  in 
his  present  condition.  But  at  last  he  thought  that 
the  explanation  of  this  infatuation  must  lie  in  his 
weakness  and  her  beauty,  for  with  singular  fatuity 
he  had  not  succeeded  in  discovering  any  other  rea 
son  for  his  interest. 

In  the  first  place,  owing  to  the  precautions  she 
had  taken,  he  had  not  yet  had  that  clear,  full  sight 
of  the  girl  for  which  he  longed.  She  had  always 
been  in  a  half  light,  or  concealed  in  some  shadow,  or 
with  face  turned  away,  when  she  had  been  with  him. 
He  might  have  looked  upon  her  carefully  in  the 
hall  of  the  Chateau  St.  Louis,  but  his  mind  was  bent 
upon  other  things  then,  and  his  physical  weakness 
and  the  resulting  collapse  had  possibly  impaired  his 
judgment  as  well  as  his  vision. 

Besides  all  this,  she  had  informed  him  that  her 
name  was  de  Couedic,  which  appellation  not  only 
told  him  nothing,  but  had  actually  thrown  him  en 
tirely  on  the  wrong  track.  By  no  possibility  could 
he  have  imagined  that  the  Countess  de  Rohan, 
whom  he  had  left  a  child  a  few  years  before  in  the 
Chateau  de  Josselin  in  Brittany,  would  be  found 
now  inside  the  walls  of  Quebec  in  America. 

Josette  he  had  scarcely  seen  since  he  was  wound 
ed,  and  he  paid  no  attention  to  her  anyway  in 

161 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

the  presence  of  Anne — one  does  not  look  at  the 
moon  when  the  sun  is  by.  The  same  might  be  said 
of  Jean-Renaud.  The  sergeant  had  not  impressed 
himself  very  deeply  upon  Grafton's  consciousness 
when  he  had  been  held  a  prisoner  at  the  chateau, 
and  the  changed  uniform  and  dress,  together  with 
the  lapse  of  time,  had  prevented  his  being  recog 
nised.  Anne  had  been  very  careful  not  to  call  the 
names  of  her  two  servitors  in  his  presence  after  she 
had  recognised  him,  and  during  the  day  he  had  not 
seen  either  of  them.  Luck,  too,  was  against  him. 
Indeed,  how  could  he  have  recognised  in  this  glori 
ous  specimen  of  glowing  womanhood  the  thin,  un 
developed  little  girl  of  other  days? 

Anne  de  Rohan  was  now  eighteen  years  of  age 
and  in  the  first  flush  of  beautiful  womanhood.  Of 
medium  height,  with  a  figure  which  combined  the 
lovely  proportions  of  her  American  ancestry  with 
the  daintiness  and  delicacy  of  the  women  of  France; 
with  a  clear,  cool,  pale  yet  not  pallid  face,  exqui 
site  features,  scarlet  lips,  proudly,  ay,  even  disdain 
fully  elegant  in  their  graceful  curves;  deep  blue 
eyes,  so  deep  that  they  were  almost  violet  when 
filled  with  feeling  or  glowing  with  passion,  and  the 
whole  framed  in  her  midnight  hair;  she  was  indeed 
a  rarely  beautiful  woman.  The  performance  of  her 
maturity  was  indeed  greater  than  her  childhood's 
promise  had  been.  Only  a  prophet  might  have  seen 
the  one  in  the  past,  or  a  seer  recognise  the  other  in 
the  present. 

A  strange  concatenation  of  circumstances  had 
brought  the  girl  to  New  France.  After  Grafton's 

162 


Recognition 

departure  from  the  Chateau  de  Josselin  she  had 
drooped  and  faded.  She  was  growing  too  rapidly, 
thought  the  marquis  and  those  who  advised  him, 
who  never  suspected  the  real  reason  for  her  ill 
health.  She  actually  had  pined  for  the  young  man 
who  had  left  her  behind  and  yet  had  taken  her  child 
ish  heart  with  him.  But  of  this,  of  course,  she 
said  nothing,  so  the  wise  men  concluded  that  she 
had  studied  too  hard,  had  been  too  closely  confined, 
and  so  on.  The  physicians  who  were  consulted, 
after  the  simple  remedies  of  the  time  had  proved 
unavailing,  finally  recommended  a  sea-voyage. 

As  it  happened,  the  marquis  had  just  then  been 
summoned  to  the  King  to  take  part  as  a  commander 
in  one  of  the  campaigns  of  the  Seven  Years'  War, 
his  experience  and  ability  being  too  valuable  to 
allow  him  to  be  neglected.  The  old  man,  therefore, 
had  taken  advantage  of  the  departure  of  a  heavy 
French  squadron,  carrying  General,  the  Marquis  de 
Montcalm,  his  suite,  and  some  troops,  to  send  his 
grand-daughter  to  Canada  under  the  charge  of  the 
general,  an  old  friend,  who  had  been  appointed  to 
the  supreme  military  command  in  New  France. 
An  ancient  relative  of  the  house  of  Rohan  lived  in 
affluence  and  ease  in  Quebec,  and  to  her  the  mar 
quis  consigned  the  young  countess. 

She  had  remained  in  New  France  with  this  es 
timable  lady  ever  since  her  arrival,  for  two  reasons: 
one,  it  had  been  difficult — well-nigh  impossible,  in 
deed,  on  account  of  the  number  of  English  ships 
cruising  to  intercept  the  traffic  between  Canada  and 
France — to  get  away;  and  the  other,  as  the  marquis 

163 


The  (3uiberon  Touch 

was  still  engaged  in  the  French  army,  she  would 
have  had  no  place  to  which  to  go,  no  place 
where  she  could  have  lived  so  comfortably  and  safely 
if  she  returned  to  France.  The  marquis  was  deter 
mined  that  he  would  not  throw  her  into  the  hotbed 
of  dissipation  and  intrigue  of  which  Louis  XV  was 
the  focus,  in  Paris  or  at  Versailles. 

Her  health,  much  benefited  by  the  voyage,  was 
soon  completely  restored,  and  with  her  great  beauty, 
her  ancient  name,  her  powerful  grandfather,  the 
great  estates  to  which  she  was  sole  heiress,  she  be 
came,  as  childhood  gave  way  to  womanhood,  the 
undoubted  belle  of  New  France.  The  officers  of 
the  army,  the  sea  officers  from  the  various  ships  or 
squadrons  which  from  time  to  time  arrived  from 
France,  the  young  Canadian  noblesse,  all  laid  their 
hearts  at  her  feet.  She  could  have  chosen  any 
one  from  among  them,  but  as  yet  none  of  them  had 
succeeded  in  touching  her  heart.  Most  of  them 
she  liked  and  the  society  of  many  of  them  she 
enjoyed. 

In  all  the  gaieties  of  Canada — and  the  traditions 
of  France  were  royally  maintained  in  the  New 
World — she  participated.  Yet  with  native  dignity 
and  pride  she  held  herself  aloof  from  the  dissolute 
set  surrounding  the  able  but  unscrupulous  Intend- 
ant,  Bigot;  and  if  she  acquired  knowledge  of  the 
world,  she  neither  lost  her  innocence  of  heart  nor 
sacrificed  her  purity  of  soul  in  the  attainment. 

Among  the  many  she  had  met  who  had  paid 
court  to  her,  the  man  she  most  liked,  and  who  was, 
in  fact,  perhaps  the  finest  among  them,  was  the 

164 


Recognition 

young  sailor  to  whom,  in  fear  of  her  love  for  Graf- 
tori,  she  had  just  engaged  herself.  She  had  refused 
his  suit  many  times  before,  but  with  undaunted  gal 
lantry  he  had  persisted  in  his  attentions. 

The  two  had  many  ties  in  common.  They  both 
came  from  Breton  families.  Upon  the  score  of 
wealth,  breeding,  and  personality  de  Vitre  was  an 
entirely  suitable  companion  for  her.  In  but  one 
particular  did  he  fall  below  the  required  standard. 
His  family,  while  old,  was  not  to  be  mentioned  in 
the  same  breath  with  hers,  and  as  he  was  only  the 
son  of  a  cadet  of  his  house,  a  simple  chevalier,  hold 
ing  the  rank  qf  lieutenant  in  the  navy,  he  was  from 
that  point  of  view  no  match  for  her. 

How  her  grandfather,  the  marquis,  would  re 
gard  the  engagement  upon  which  she  had  so  sud 
denly  and  capriciously  entered  was  problematical. 
In  fact,  she  felt  that  he  would  disapprove;  but  while 
she  was  wholly  French  in  her  training  and  in  her 
ideas  she  was  not  for  nothing  the  daughter  of  an 
American  mother.  She  combined  a  determination 
to  exercise  a  certain  liberty  of  choice  as  to  the  dis 
position  of  her  heart  and  person  with  the  stubborn, 
inflexible  will  power  of  her  grandfather.  Therefore 
she  could  meet  the  certain  antagonism  of  the  mar 
quis  with  two  weapons — his  own  and  her  mother's. 
She  trusted  also  that  he  might  be  won  to  her  views; 
she  was  sure  he  would  rather  see  her  dead  than  have 
her  marry  an  Englishman,  an  enemy,  and  she 
hoped,  when  she  explained  to  him  that  in  utter 
despair  she  had  thrown  herself  into  the  arms  of  the 
one  to  escape  the  promptings  of  her  heart,  which 

165 


The  guiberon  Touch 

would  fain  have  thrown  her  into  the  arms  of  the 
other,  that  he  would  acquiesce. 

She  had  no  one  to  advise  her,  poor  child!  The 
ancient  relative  to  whose  care  she  had  been  com 
mitted,  had  died  a  few  weeks  since  of  the  cares, 
anxieties  and  privations  brought  about  by  the 
siege.  An  ordinary  French  girl  would  have  gone  to 
a  convent  under  the  circumstances,  but  Anne  pos 
sessed  a  certain  amount  of  self-reliance  and  inde 
pendence,  and  she  resolved,  for  the  time  being,  at 
least,  to  remain  at  her  own  house  with  old  Jean-Re- 
naud  and  Josette.  If  the  English  were  driven  away 
she  made  up  her  mind  that  at  any  hazard  she  would 
take  ship  for  France.  If,  on  the  contrary,  the  Eng 
lish  captured  the  town  she  would-  probably  be  sent 
back  a  prisoner.  So  she  awaited  the  issue  of  the 
campaign,  in  the  meantime  busying  herself  with 
caring  for  the  sick  and  wounded. 

She  would  have  appealed  for  advice  to  the  Mar 
quis  de  Montcalm  as  her  father's  friend  and  an  hon 
ourable  man  in  whom  she  could  trust,  and  upon 
whose  judgment  she  could  depend,  but  the  exigen 
cies  of  the  siege  had  so  fully  occupied  that  general 
that  she  was  not  willing  to  trouble  him  with  her 
private  affairs,  and  now  it  was  too  late. 

It  was  evening.  She  stood  by  the  dormer  win 
dow  looking  out  on  the  street.  Grafton  watched 
her  closely  from  the  bed.  She  had  stopped  a  mo 
ment  to  inquire  for  him,  her  third  and  to  be  her 
last  visit  that  day,  and  then,  attracted  by  a  commo 
tion  outside,  she  had  gone  to  the  window. 

A  little  cortege  filled  the  street  below.  Some  sol- 
166 


Recognition 


diers  bore  upon  their  shoulders  a  rude  wooden  box. 
Over  it  was  laid  the  golden-lilied  white  flag  of 
France,  and  upon  the  flag  a  handsome  sword.  A 
half-dozen  men,  holding  pine  torches  whose  flick 
ering,  wavering  flames  cast  an  uncertain  illumi 
nation  over  the  scene,  walked  by  the  makeshift 
coffin.  Immediately  behind  came  a  few  priests, 
and  then  Monsieur  de  Ramesay  and  his  staff,  and  a 
little  huddle  of  townspeople — the  idle  and  the 
curious. 

There  were  no  strains  of  martial  music;  there 
was  neither  blare  of  bugle  nor  roll  of  drum,  nor  toll 
ing  of  bells.  There  was  no  ceremony,  no  pomp; 
there  were  no  women  even. 

Anne  leaned  her  head  upon  the  casement,  her 
tears  falling  softly.  Her  body  shook  with  sobs. 
Grafton  stared  at  her  keenly  and  curiously.  There 
was  a  strange  pain  at  his  heart  when  he  saw  her 
weep. 

Presently  the  funeral  procession  passed  the  win 
dow.  The  lights  from  the  torches,  almost  at  a  level 
with  her  face  in  the  window  of  the  low-studded  old 
house,  threw  it  into  high  and  bright  relief.  She 
was  off  her  guard,  not  thinking  of  herself  or  even 
of  Grafton,  for  the  moment.  It  was  the  first  time 
that  he  had  been  able  to  see  her  well.  Suggestions 
of  the  truth  came  across  him  with  a  sense  of  shock, 
and  yet  he  did  not  quite  recognise  her.  He  was  not 
sure.  It  could  not  be. 

"  Mademoiselle/'  he  said  softly,  "  you  told  me 
your  name  was " 

"  De  Couedic.  Yes,  monsieur,"  she  answered, 
167 


The  (3uiberon  Touch 

with  her  eyes  still  fixed  upon  the  street,  though  he 
noticed  that  she  turned  her  face  away  from  him. 

Was  she  discovered  at  last?  Could  he  suspect, 
she  thought. 

"  I  had  thought,"  he  continued,  then  he  stopped. 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  weep,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  monsieur." 

"  Who  passes  in  the  street?  Those  lights,  what 
are  they?  " 

"  Monsieur,  a  funeral." 

"  Whose  funeral,  mademoiselle?  " 

"  Alas,  monsieur,  I  think  it  is  the  burial  of  New 
France!  " 

"  Mademoiselle?  " 

( 'Tis  the  funeral  of  the  Marquis  de  Montcalm, 
monsieur.  He  is  being  borne  to  his  last  rest." 

"He  was  a  brave  man,  Mademoiselle  de  Couedic, 
and  he  died  as  a  soldier  would  fain  die,  in  the  front 
of  the  battle  line." 

"  He  was  my  grandfather's  friend,  monsieur, 
and  mine.  He  was  so  good  to  me.  I  know  his  wife, 
his  children.  He  loved  them  and  longed  to  go  back 
to  them.  But  he  loved  his  country,  his  duty,  his 
King,  more  than  all,  monsieur,  and  so  he  stayed, 
and  now  he  will  never  go  back  any  more." 

She  put  her  face  down  in  her  hands  and  sobbed 
bitterly.  People  are  as  little  children  when  they 
weep.  Where  had  he  seen  that  bowed  head? 
Heavens!  was  it  not  upon  his  own  shoulder?  Why, 
the  picture  was  the  same!  The  moonlight  was  steal 
ing  through  the  casement  just  as  before.  She  wore 
something  filmy  and  white.  It  might  have  been  that 

168 


Recognition 


night-robe  that  had  enshrouded  the  slender  girl. 
His  heart  beat  so  that  it  nearly  suffocated  him,  and 
yet — de  Couedic!  It  could  not  be! 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  all  the  passion  surging 
in  his  soul  quivering  in  his  voice,  "  do  not  weep. 
By  Heaven,  I  do  not  know  how  or  why  it  is,  but  to 
see  you  weep  tears  my  very  heart!  Can  it  be  that  I 
saw  you  but  yesterday  and  loved  you,  mademoi 
selle?  " 

She  turned  and  faced  him.  The  feeling  in  his 
voice,  the  look  in  his  eyes,  as  she  stared  at  him, 
so  perfectly  matched  her  own  she  had  no  will  nor 
power  to  withstand  any  longer.  Deliberately  she 
fetched  a  light  from  behind  the  curtain  and  set  it 
down  on  the  table  at  the  head  of  his  bed;  then  she 
stood  where  the  full  light  would  fall  on  her  face,  and 
drawing  herself  up  threw  out  her  arms  wide  before 
him. 

"  Monsieur!  "  she  cried.  "  Oh,  do  you  not 
know  me?  " 

"  Is  it  thou,  Little  France?"  he  exclaimed,  dazed 
and  bewildered  by  his  thoughts.  "  Who  could  have 
thought  it?  How  beautiful!  " 

She  dashed  away  the  tears  with  her  hand.  She 
thought  he  had  not  yet  recognised  her,  as  he  lay 
spellbound  gazing  on  her  matchless  beauty.  Her 
scarlet  lips  quivered  a  moment,  then  shaped  them 
selves  for  sound,  and  from  her  full,  soft  throat  came 
the  notes  of  the  little  Breton  cradle-song  which 
he  had  heard  her  sing  in  the  garden  of  the  Hesperi- 
des,  Toutouie,  la  la!  But  no  mother  ever  sang 
it  to  child  as  she  sang  it  then. 
12  169 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

"Anne!"  he  cried.  "  The  Lady  Anne !  Fool 
that  I  was!  How  blind!  I  should  have  known  you! 
I  should  have  recognised  your  footstep  even  had  I 
lain  dead  on  your  doorstep!  " 

"Sir  Philip!  Sir  Philip!"  she  exclaimed. 
"  How  could  you  forget?  But  I  knew!  Oh,  my 
love,  my  love!  " 

She  sank  on  her  knees  at  the  bedside  again  and 
leaned  over  him. 

"  But  you  are  betrothed  to  de  Vitre?  "  he  cried 
in  jealous  anguish. 

"Ah,  Philip,  my  knight!"  she  murmured, 
"  what  matters  it?  'Tis  you  I  love,  I  love!  " 

She  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck;  their  lips 
met  in  one  long  kiss  charged  with  dreams  and  ideals 
of  years.  The  joy,  the  surprise,  were  almost  too 
great  for  him.  He  closed  his  eyes;  in  his  weak  state 
he  thought  he  would  have  fainted.  It  had  all  come 
upon  him  suddenly  with  such  a  shock.  She  had 
known  it  for  two  days.  He  had  been  so  desperately 
wounded. 

She  was  the  stronger  of  the  two  then  and  she  re 
covered  herself  the  sooner.  Something  assisted  her, 
perhaps.  Her  throbbing  breast  as  it  lay  upon  his 
own  was  met  by  the  pressure  of  something  round 
and  hard.  The  little  locket!  It  flashed  into  her 
jealous  mind  in  an  instant. 

"  Monsieur  Grafton,"  she  said,  drawing  away 
from  him  with  a  sudden  change  of  mood,  "  you  not 
only  forgot  me,  you  not  only  did  not  know  me,  but 
you —  That  locket,  sir?  " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle,"  answered  Grafton  simply, 
170 


Recognition 


for  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  deceive  this  woman, 
or  to  evade  the  question. 

"  Ah!  Carrying  another  woman's  face  over  your 
heart  and  speaking  love  to  me!  " 

"O  Anne!"  he  cried,  "there  may  be  another 
woman  in  the  locket,  there  is  only  yourself  in  my 
heart!" 

"  Whose  picture  is  there?  " 

"  I  may  not  tell." 

"  Monsieur  will  not  tell?  " 

"  Nay,  I  can  not.     'Tis  honour  seals  my  lips." 

He  wished  he  had  never  given  the  promise  so 
lightly  uttered  in  the  cabin  of  the  Sutherland,  but, 
being  given,  it  must  be  faithfully  kept. 

"  The  honour  of  a  woman?  "  she  asked. 

"  Of  a  man,  mademoiselle,  of  a  soldier,  of  a 
friend." 

"  Explain  yourself,  monsieur." 

"  Mademoiselle  Anne,  I  can  not,  but  I  give  you 
my  word  of  honour  as  an  English  officer,  the  word 
of  an  American  gentleman,  your  mother's  land, 
mademoiselle,  that  the  lady  of  the  locket  is  nothing 
to  me,  that  I  cherish  the  face  of  no  woman  except 
your  own.  Ever  since  those  days  when  I  was  held 
a  prisoner  in  the  old  chateau,  since  the  hour — do 
you  not  recall  it? — when  I  carried  you  in  my  arms 
and  kissed  you  first,  I  have  loved  you.  I  have 
thought  and  dreamed  of  you  alone  among  woman 
kind.  When  I  went  away  from  France  I  left  my 
heart  behind.  You  have  had  it — you  have  it 
now." 

"  But  the  locket? "  she  persisted,  while  the 
171 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

music  of  his  words  rang  sweetly  in  the  most  secret 
chamber  of  her  heart. 

"  Forget  it." 

"  Take  it  off,  then." 

"  I  can  not." 

"  Can  not?  And  yet  she  is  nothing  to  you,  you 
say?  " 

"  Even  so,  yet  that  little  thing  I  can  not  do.  I 
have  sworn  never  to  part  with  it  until " 

"Ah,  monsieur!"  she  continued  bitterly,  turn 
ing  away.  "  You  see!  What  can  I  believe?  " 

"  Believe  only  that  I  love  you;  trust  in  my  hon 
our;  you  will  laugh  at  this,  we  will  laugh  together, 
when  I  am  able  to  tell  you  some  day.  In  the  mean 
time  have  faith  in  me.  Won't  you  trust  me?  "  he 
continued,  as  she  shook  her  head.  "  Twice  I  might 
have  died  if  it  had  not  been  for  you.  Twice  you 
have  called  me  back  to  life.  My  life  is  yours,  and 
yours  is  mine.  I  will  not  be  denied."  He  turned 
and  stretched  out  his  one  uninjured  hand.  "  Come 
back.  If  there  is  the  faintest  feeling  of  affection  in 
your  own  heart,  if  you  know  what  love  is,  you  must 
know  'tis  here!  " 

She  hesitated,  she  moved  nearer,  hesitated  again. 
He  strove  to  rise,  wrenched  his  arm,  covered  his 
eyes  with  his  hand,  stifled  a  moan.  That  decided 
her.  He  suffered,  and  she  fled  to  him  once  again, 
a  little  murmuring  cry,  an  inarticulate  caress  on  her 
lips. 

Oh,  the  ecstasy  of  that  moment! 

We  live  long  years  for  the  emotions  of  an  hour, 
the  pleasure  of  a  second.  We  waste  lifetimes  in 

172 


Recognition 


solitary  kisses,  and  the  sum  of  dreams  is  gone  in  a 
single  touch. 

Anne  de  Rohan  was  promised  to  de  Vitre.  She 
meant  to  keep  her  promise.  She  was  wildly,  bitterly 
jealous  of  the  woman  in  the  locket,  too,  in  spite  of 
his  assurances,  although  she  really  believed  them, 
and  she  had  never  intended  this.  She  knew  she 
could  never  be  anything  to  Grafton.  Her  reason, 
her  sense,  told  her  that  this  was  folly,  but  the  deter 
mination  of  her  mind  was  abrogated  by  the  feelings 
of  her  heart.  Perhaps  because  she  knew  there  was 
nothing  beyond  she  gave  way  the  more  easily  to 
her  emotions.  The  flood-gates  were  open  again,  the 
long-pent-up  floods  were  out  once  more.  Ah,  this 
time  there  would  be  no  confining  them  again! 

She  knelt  beside  that  old  bed,  she  slipped  her 
fair,  round  young  arm  underneath  his  neck  and  lav 
ished  caresses  upon  him.  Her  hands  played  with 
the  curls  upon  his  forehead.  Her  eyes  looked  love 
in  his,  her  voice  whispered  endearments  in  broken 
tones;  all  her  being  went  out  to  meet  his.  She  was 
trembling  with  her  passion,  nervous  at  his  touch; 
she  could  not  be  quiet,  she  must  move  or  die.  She 
hovered  over  him  like  an  angel  of  love  and  tender 
ness. 

He  lay  there  so  white,  so  pale,  so  weak,  so  happy, 
with  a  love  that  was  as  strong  as  hers  looking  from 
his  eyes.  His  one  free  hand  she  held  tightly, 
pressed  it  to  her  breast,  kissed  it,  fondled  it  again 
and  again. 

And  how  beautiful  she  was!  One  look  in  the 
unfathomable  depths  of  those  great  eyes  might  have 

173 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

told  him  the  truth  before.  The  sound  of  that  voice 
quivering  with  joy  that  was  almost  pain  should 
have  spoken  to  him.  How  blind  he  had  been — a 
fool!  He  forgot  five  years  of  separation  and  grieved 
that  he  had  lost  one  day!  The  past  faded  away, 
the  future  lay  in  the  distance,  the  present  was  their 
own. 

Presently,  as  the  first  fierce  intensity  of  her  pas 
sion  spent  itself,  she  laid  her  head  upon  his  breast 
and  listened  in  sweet  surrender  to  the  beating  of  his 
heart,  hearing  that  heart  throbbing  for  her,  only 
for  her.  The  room  was  very  still.  Words  were 
never  coined  to  express  what  they  felt,  and  neither 
spoke. 

It  was  dark  outside.  The  night  had  fallen. 
Clouds  had  swept  across  the  face  of  the  moon,  hid 
ing  its  splendour.  The  sky  was  overcast,  muttered 
peals  of  thunder  rolled  swiftly  through  the  cham 
ber.  The  candle  had  burned  itself  out,  it  flickered 
away;  the  gray  shadows  grew  into  darkness.  It  was 
deep  and  still  there.  In  that  silence  heart  whispered 
to  heart  in  language  which  gods  and  lovers  may 
understand.  By-and-bye  her  arm  was  slipped  from 
beneath  his  head.  Had  hours  or  moments  passed, 
or  had  they  lived  an  eternity  since  the  kiss  of  recog 
nition?  Her  head,  that  had  lain  so  lightly  upon  his 
breast,  was  lifted.  The  sweet  lips,  whose  colour  he 
could  dream  of  even  in  the  darkness,  melted  once 
again  upon  his  own — and  she  was  gone. 

He  had  not  moved  or  stirred.  After  she  left 
him  the  sweet  illusion  was  still  heavy  upon  him.  He 
could  feel  the  presence  of  her  head,  the  perfume,  the 

174 


Recognition 

fragrance  of  her  hair,  the  beating  of  her  heart.  He 
closed  his  eyes  in  the  darkness.  Her  lips  seemed  to 
brush  his  own  again — again. 

Did  he  sleep,  did  he  dream?    All  night  long  she 
seemed  to  be  by  his  side. 


175 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

FALLS  THE  FLAG  OF  FRANCE 

DE  RAMESAY  stood  again  in  his  private  office  in 
the  shot-racked  Chateau  St.  Louis.  From  the  Eng 
lish  batteries  at  Point  Levis  the  cannon  were  con 
tinuously  firing  upon  the  already  ruined  lower  town, 
and  even  upon  the  castle  itself.  From  Townshend's 
intrenchments  on  the  landward  side  the  heavy  siege 
guns  which  had  been  landed  from  the  British  ships 
were  raining  shot  and  shell  upon  the  upper  town 
and  the  citadel.  Fiedmont,  the  French  chief  of  ar 
tillery,  was  making  what  reply  he  could.  The  fleet 
of  Admiral  Saunders  in  the  basin  had  been  moving 
up  toward  the  lower  town  during  the  past  week,  and 
as  de  Ramesay  watched  them,  large  boats  full  of 
troops  were  even  then  being  landed  on  the  meadows 
and  flats  at  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Charles  River  and 
were  being  drawn  up  in  columns  under  cover  of  the 
ships'  batteries,  as  if  preparing  to  approach  and 
storm  the  gate  nearest  the  bridge. 

De  Ramesay  had  just  come  in  from  a  tour  of  the 
walls.  It  was  a  hopeless  outlook  indeed  before  the 
governor.  He  had  done  his  best,  but  the  end  was 
approaching.  Sad  indeed  is  the  moment  when  we 
realize  that  our  best  is  unavailing.  The  rations  of 

176 


Falls  the  Flag  of  France 

all  had  been  reduced  and  reduced  until  starvation 
stared  them  in  the  face.  No  part  of  the  town  was 
safe  now  from  the  English  fire.  The  very  chateau 
itself  in  which  he  stood  was  riddled  with  shells. 
There  was  a  great  gaping  hole  in  the  roof  of  his  cab 
inet,  through  which  the  rain  poured  dismally. 

The  temper  of  the  garrison  had  grown  worse  and 
worse.  Nothing  whatever  had  been  heard  from  de 
Levis.  De  Ramesay  felt  that  if  an  assault  were  de 
livered  it  could  not  be  met.  His  garrison  originally 
consisted  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  troops  of  the  line, 
some  four  or  five  hundred  colony  troops,  and  the 
local  militia,  but  had  been  much  reduced  by  death, 
wounds,  and  starvation,  and  was  growing  less  every 
day.  The  colonial  soldiers  and  militia  had  been  de 
serting  in  handfuls. 

Presently  Captain  Rouvigny  entered. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  said,  saluting,  "  a  body  of  mer 
chants,  headed  by  Monsieur  Daine,  are  here  to  see 
you,  and " 

"  Bid  them  attend  me  in  the  great  hall  of  the 
chateau,  captain,"  interrupted  the  governor  gloom 
ily,  "  and  summon  the  officers  of  my  staff.  Let 
some  one  go  for  Monsieur  Piedmont,  if  he  can  be 
spared  from  the  walls.  We  need  his  counsel." 

"  I  omitted  to  state,  monsieur,"  continued  the 
young  officer,  "  that  the  merchants  are  accompanied 
by  the  officers  of  the  city  militia." 

"  Let  them  all  come  together,  I  will  see  them 
all.  I  know  what  it  means,"  said  de  Ramesay  de 
spondently. 

A  few  moments  after  he  entered  the  great  hall 
177 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

of  the  bullet-ridden  castle.  Many  of  the  portraits 
which  had  adorned  it  had  been  destroyed  by  the  fire 
of  the  enemy.  Grim  old  Frontenac,  the  unconquer 
able,  however,  still  kept  watch  and  ward  over  the 
territory  he  had  loved,  now  fast  slipping  into  the 
hands  of  the  hated  English.  Had  he  been  in  de 
Vaudreuil's  place,  thought  de  Ramesay,  they  might 
not  now  be  in  such  a  pass. 

Through  the  broken  window-panes  the  rain  beat 
and  the  wind  swept  in  mournful  harmony  with  the 
thoughts  of  the  people  who  crowded  the  room.  At 
the  lower  end  were  congregated  a  body  of  the  most 
influential  citizens  of  the  town.  Their  plain  but 
rich  dress,  comfortable  cloaks,  prosperous  appear 
ance,  proclaimed  that  they  were  men  of  substance 
and  condition.  A  little  apart  from  them  stood 
the  officers  of  the  colonial  militia  in  bedraggled, 
weather-stained  uniforms. 

The  merchants  faced  de  Ramesay  boldly.  The 
eyes  of  the  citizen  soldiery  sank  to  the  ground,  and 
they  looked  everywhere  but  at  him.  They  shifted 
uneasily  under  the  stern  gaze  of  the  veteran  com 
mander,  while  their  hands  played  nervously  with 
their  sword-hilts.  De  Ramesay  was  attended  by  the 
officers  of  his  staff,  able  soldiers  all;  some  of  them 
were  drenched  with  rain  and  covered  with  marks  of 
their  exposure  to  the  inclement  weather,  which 
showed  they  had  just  come  from  the  ramparts. 
Among  them  were  Rouvigny,  St.  Luc,  Piedmont, 
and  Joannes  the  town  major,  and  with  them  de 
Vitre,  still  under  restraint  by  de  Ramesay's  order. 

The  governor  stood  at  the  great  table  with  his 
178 


Falls  the  Flag  of  France 

officers  grouped  around  him.  The  merchants  and 
militia  officers  drifted  together  at  the  opposite  side. 
A  stranger  would  have  instantly  recognised  that 
here  were  two  parties  to  debate  a  serious  proposi 
tion.  Sadness  was  the  predominating  note  in  de 
Ramesay's  face  ;  haughty  pride  and  contempt 
flashed  from  the  eyes  of  the  nobles  and  professional 
soldiers  at  his  back;  dogged  determination  was  evi 
denced  in  every  line  in  the  portly  figures  of  the  mer 
chants;  and  stubborn  shame  spoke  from  the 
drooped  heads  of  the  militia  officers. 

"  Messieurs,"  said  the  governor  quietly,  "  you 
have  asked  an  audience  for  a  purpose  which  I  can 
but  too  well  divine.  Will  you  speak  your  mind  and 
have  done  with  it?  The  gentlemen  of  the  counter 
first." 

He  turned  inquiringly  to  the  merchants,  but  no 
one  apparently  cared  to  break  the  silence.  No  one 
wished  to  assume  the  stigma  of  being  the  first  to 
make  the  proposition  in  furtherance  of  which  they 
had  assembled. 

"What,  gentlemen!"  continued  de  Ramesay 
sarcastically,  "  are  your  desires  so  base  that  none  of 
you  have  even  courage  to  mention  them?  Mon 
sieur  Daine,  it  was  at  your  house,  I  am  informed, 
that  the  gentlemen  held  their  meeting  this  morning. 
Will  you  speak?  " 

"  Monsieur  le  Chevalier,"  stammered  Daine, 
flushing  and  paling  by  turns,  "  we  are — we  can  not 
— we  do  not — in  short,  we  came  to  beg  you  to  sur 
render  the  town." 

"Ah!  "  said  the  governor,  "and  why  should  I 
179 


The  guiberon  Touch 

give  up  a  charge  devolved  upon  me  by  his  Majesty 
the  King?  " 

"  We  are  starving,  monsieur,"  answered  Daine 
more  boldly;  "  our  dwellings,  our  shops,  our  ware 
houses  are  ruined.  We  can  do  no  more.  If  the 
English  break  into  the  town,  if  they  storm  the  walls, 
we  have  over  two  thousand  women  and  children 
here.  Think  of  them,  sir!  " 

"  True,"  said  de  Ramesay,  "  but  so  long  as  we 
have  arms  in  our  hands  the  English  will  not  break 
through  the  walls.  Is  it  not  so,  gentlemen?  " 

"  Vive  la  nouvelle  France!  " 

"  Let  us  die  for  the  flag!  " 

"  Vive  le  roil  " 

"  Death  to  the  English !  "  broke  in  confused  ac 
clamations  from  the  little  group  of  officers  behind 
the  chevalier.  The  others  were  silent. 

"  How  is  it  that  I  hear  no  response  to  my  appeal 
from  the  officers  of  the  militia?  "  continued  the  gov 
ernor.  "  Gentlemen,  do  you  allow  your  brothers  of 
the  regular  army  to  outdo  you  in  patriotism?  " 

"  By  God,  sir!  "  ripped  out  one  of  the  leading 
officers  of  the  militia,  "  we  can  not  fight  any  more, 
and  there's  an  end  to  it!  Our  men  are  deserting  by 
hundreds,  and  we  are  hungry!  We  have  had  noth 
ing  to  eat  since  last  night,  nothing  to  drink  either! 
'Tis  ill  keeping  guard  and  fighting  on  nothing!  The 
English  are  there  in  thousands,  curse  them!  We 
can  not  keep  them  out.  My  men  won't  fight  any 
longer!  " 

"Nor  mine!" 

"  Nor  mine!  "  rang  through  the  hall. 
1 80 


Falls  the  Flag  of  France 

"  And  you,  monsieur,  has  your  stomach  for  fight 
also  left  you?  "  asked  de  Ramesay,  frowning  upon 
the  man. 

"  Yes,  it  has!  "  snapped  out  the  officer  furiously. 
"  'Tis  a  hopeless  contest,  the  city  is  lost!  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  he  is  right!  " 

"  Surrender!  " 

"  Give  up  the  town!  " 

"  We  are  lost!  "  cried  one  after  another. 

There  was  no  doubt  either  of  their  unanimity  or 
of  their  determination. 

"  You  cowards!  "  exclaimed  the  'governor  bit 
terly,  turning  upon  them  with  a  withering  glance  of 
contempt.  His  calmness  gone,  he  stamped  his  foot 
in  passionate  scorn  and  anger. 

It  was  de  Vitre  who  broke  the  silence  which  fol 
lowed  this  insulting  charge.  He  sprang  from  the 
side  of  the  governor  in  fierce  passion,  seized  the  big 
militiaman  by  the  shoulder,  twice  struck  him  vio 
lently  with  the  flat  of  his  sword,  and  then  with  a 
furious  shove  sent  him  reeling  back  among  his  as 
tonished  and  indignant  companions. 

A  fierce  roar  of  rage  was  blasted  up  from  the  ex 
cited  militiamen.  They  surged  toward  de  Vitre, 
who  faced  them  undaunted,  his  blade  out  now. 
Swords  and  espontons  were  lifted  in  the  air,  pistols 
handled,  fists  shaken,  and  curses  and  yells  filled  the 
room. 

"Back!"  cried  the  governor  sternly.  "I  am 
astonished  at  you,  Monsieur  de  Vitre — this  brawl 
ing  can  not  be  tolerated  under  the  circumstances! 
A  divided  house  we  are  and  indeed  defenceless. — 

181 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

And  you,  messieurs,"  he  continued,  turning  to  the 
volunteers,  "  you  seem  to  have  spirit  enough  to 
fight  among  yourselves.  Gentlemen,  it  is  not  possi 
ble  that  you  are  all  agreed  with  the  major  who  has 
just  spoken?  " 

The  restraint  was  off  the  mob  now,  the  ice  was 
broken.  They  crowded  about  the  old  general  with 
oaths  and  protestations,  demanding  that  he  sur 
render  the  town.  Presently  the  merchants  and  busi 
ness  men  joined  in.  Words  were  passed  back  and 
forth,  and  the  whole  assemblage  broke  out  in  the 
most  violent  disorder.  The  room  was  filled  with 
clamour. 

In  the  midst  of  the  confusion,  which  well  indi 
cated  the  disorganization  in  the  town,  an  officer 
burst  into  the  hall  and  shouldered  his  way  through 
the  struggling  mob  toward  the  governor.  The 
crowd  became  silent  as  they  recognised  his  presence 
and  instinctively  felt  that  he  had  news  of  impor 
tance.  His  face  was  grave  with  anxiety. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  cried,  saluting,  "  the  English 
are  about  to  storm  the  St.  Charles  Gate!  Monsieur 
le  Gardeur,  who  commands  there,  has  sent  me  to 
say  that  the  town  troops  have  thrown  down  their 
arms  and  have  refused  to  fight!  He  has  no  force  to 
stay  the  advance.  For  God's  sake,  send  re-enforce 
ments,  or  we  are  lost!  " 

Even  as  he  spoke  another  officer  came  running 
into  the  room  from  the  walls  on  the  other  side. 

"  Monsieur  le  Gouverneur,"  he  cried,  as  he  en 
tered  the  apartment,  "  the  colonial  troops  have 
withdrawn  from  the  walls!  Captain  Le  Moyne  says 

182 


Falls  the  Flag  of  France 

that  the  English  battalions  are  mustering  for  an  im 
mediate  attack.  He  has  not  enough  regulars  to  man 
the  guns!  He  must  have  re-enforcements  immedi 
ately,  and  the  men  are  hungry!  " 

"  Is  there  an  ounce  of  bread  left,"  asked  the  gov 
ernor,  turning  to  the  quarter-master,  "  to  feed  the 
soldiers  who  are  faithful  and  these  cattle?  " 

"  Nothing,  sir,"  answered  that  functionary  sad 
ly,  "  the  last  ration  was  issued  last  night." 

"  You  see,  sir,"  cried  the  merchant,  "  to  what 
straits  we  are  reduced!  My  children  cry  for  bread!  " 

"  My  wife  suffers  with  hunger;  we  are  ruined!  " 
cried  another. 

"  My  soldiers  starve!  "  exclaimed  a  third. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  unfortunate  chevalier, 
turning  to  the  militia,  "  you  have  some  influence 
with  your  men  surely!  Return  to  them,  beg  them 
to  fight  one  more  day!  Monsieur  de  Levis  will 
surely  succour  us.  Upon  us  depends  the  fortune  of 
New  France.  When  we  strike  the  flag  we  give  up 
a  province,  an  empire!  For  God's  sake,  messieurs, 
for  the  King,  for  your  own  lands,  once  more  to  the 
walls!  Vive  la  nouvelle  France!  " 

The  militia  officers  stood  in  gloomy  silence  in 
the  face  of  this  appeal.  The  feeble  acclamations  of 
the  loyal  officers  of  the  line  were  drowned  by  a 
dreadful  crashing  sound,  followed  by  a  detonating 
explosion,  which  hurled  the  people  in  the  room  in 
every  direction.  A  shell  from  the  batteries  burst  in 
the  hall. 

"  Sauve  qui  pent!  "  cried  one  in  the  smoke. 

"  We  have  no  safety  anywhere !  " 

183 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

"Strike  the  flag!" 

"  Fly,  fly,  messieurs!  " 

The  room  was  filled  with  men,  dead,  wounded, 
and  stunned.  Groans,  curses,  shrieks  resounded. 
Scarcely  knowing  what  had  happened,  the  governor, 
de  Vitre,  and  the  rest,  blinded,  dazed,  and  choking, 
found  themselves  swept  out  of  the  chateau  to  the 
terrace  in  front  of  it  overlooking  the  river.  From 
the  tall  staff  above  them  floated  the  white  flag  of 
France.  There  was  an  excited  group  of  men 
around  it.  Two  or  three  eager  hands  clutched  at 
the  halliards.  Slowly,  as  if  with  reluctance,  the 
proud  banner  came  drooping  down  to  the  earth. 

De  Vitre,  Rouvigny,  Joannes,  Fiedmont,  and 
two  or  three  others  with  drawn  swords  ran  into  the 
midst  of  the  mob,  driving  back  the  townspeople 
and  the  officers.  With  eager  hands  they  strove  to 
hoist  the  flag,  but  the  halliards  had  been  cut  and 
they  could  only  lift  it  in  their  hands  a  little  space 
above  the  sodden  ground.  As  they  realized  the 
effort,  their  antagonists  swept  down  upon  them 
again.  The  governor's  spirit  was  unabated,  but  his 
resolution  at  this  gave  way.  He  succumbed  to  the 
inevitable. 

"  Let  be!  "  he  cried,  breaking  his  sword  and 
throwing  the  pieces  far  from  him,  "  the  flag  is  down. 
Be  it  remembered  that  it  was  not  my  hand  that 
struck  it!  You  cowards,  you  have  your  way!  It 
is  the  end  of  New  France." 

He  stood,  with  the  tears  trickling  down  his 
rugged  old  face,  a  picture  of  shame  and  sorrow. 

One  by  one  the  big  guns  that  ringed  the  city 
184 


Falls  the  Flag  of  France 

ceased  to  pour  their  shot  upon  the  town,  as  the  Eng 
lish  saw  the  flag  come  down.  Although  the  heavy 
smoke  still  hung  low  in  the  sodden  air,  a  silence  om 
inous  and  gloomy  for  the  Frenchmen  succeeded  the 
roar  of  the  cannonade.  The  ships  in  the  harbour 
were  soon  black  with  men.  From  the  meadows  on 
the  Plains  of  Abraham  the  sound  of  cheering  could 
be  heard  faintly,  and  down  by  the  St.  Charles  Gate, 
where  the  columns  of  the  English  were  massed, 
came  back  an  echo  of  the  joyful  sound.  It  was  the 
death-knell  of  the  province. 

Major  Joannes,  reluctantly  complying,  while 
bitterly  protesting,  was  despatched  with  a  white  flag 
to  General  Townshend's  headquarters.  With  the 
cessation  of  the  bombardment  the  townspeople,  re 
gardless  of  the  rain,  poured  into  the  streets.  The 
plateau  in  front  of  the  chateau  was  soon  filled  with 
people  shouting,  gesticulating,  laughing,  crying, 
sobbing  like  mad.  The  grim  old  governor,  with  the 
officers  about  him,  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  flagstaff 
looking  over  that  marvelous  prospect  which  should 
never  again  belong  to  France.  Presently  Joannes 
returned. 

:<  The  terms,  major?  "  cried  the  governor. 

"  The  garrison  to  march  out  with  the  honours 
of  war,  with  their  arms,  two  pieces  of  cannon,  and 
twenty  rounds;  afterward  to  be  transported  to 
France  with  such  of  the  townspeople  as  choose  to 
go  with  them.  The  free  exercise  of  our  religion 
permitted  and  the  rights  and  property  of  the  people 
respected." 

"  And  the  alternative,  monsieur?  " 
13  185 


The  guiberon  Touch 

"  Immediate  attack." 

"  Have  you  the  paper?  " 

"  Within  my  breast,  sir,"  answered  Joannes. 

"  Let  us  go  to  the  chateau;  we  will  sign  it." 

Presently  the  two  reappeared  on  the  terrace. 

"  Say  to  the  English  that  the  people  are  starv 
ing,  and  ask  them  in  the  name  of  the  women  and 
children  to  send  us  something  to  eat  at  once,"  said 
the  governor. 

Joannes  saluted,  turned  away,  and  was  gone. 
The  people  watched  him  disappear  in  silence. 

Shots  were  heard  outside  the  walls  a  few  mo 
ments  after  he  had  left.  There  was  a  sudden  clat 
ter  of  horses  in  the  Rue  St.  Louis.  A  squadron  of 
cavalry  dashed  helter-skelter  through  the  crowd, 
which  gave  way  at  their  approach,  and  the  leader 
sprang  to  the  ground  before  the  governor. 

"  A  message  from  Monsieur  de  Levis!  "  he  cried, 
saluting.  "  He  will  attack  the  English  to-morrow! 
Meanwhile  he  sends  you  these,"  pointing  to  his  own 
horse,  upon  which  before  and  behind  the  saddle  lay 
a  heavy  bag  of  meal.  "  All  my  men  are  similarly 
provided,  monsieur.  One  more  day  and  you  are 
rescued!  Here  are  food  and  re-enforcements.  We 
cut  through  the  English  lines  and  made  the  gate. 
Some  poor  fellows,  alas!  dropped  on  the  way.  Be 
of  good  heart,  Monsieur  le  Gouverneur,  salvation 
is  at  hand!  Vive  la  -nouvelle  France!  " 

He  was  a  bold  fellow  who  uttered  these  words, 
and  the  fickle  townspeople,  catching  the  glorious 
information,  sent  up  cheer  after  cheer.  The  temper 
of  the  militia  seemed  to  have  changed.  Led  by  their 

1 86 


Falls  the  Flag  of  France 

sometime  recalcitrant  officers,  they  now  clamoured 
to  be  sent  to  the  walls. 

"  Too  late,  monsieur!  "  said  de  Ramesay  bitterly, 
surveying  with  gloomy  contempt  the  changing 
scene,  "  you  have  waited  too  long.  I  have  surren 
dered  the  town.  These  false,  fickle  cowards  refused 
to  fight.  They  deserted  the  walls.  The  English 
were  marching  to  storm  the  place.  With  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  faithful  soldiers  and  these  few  gentle 
men  I  could  do  nothing.  There  were  women  and 
children  to  be  thought  of.  Too  late,* sir!  Return 
to  Monsieur  de  Levis — I  will  provide  you  with  a 
flag — and  tell  him  that  all  is  over  in  Quebec!  " 

\ 


187 


CHAPTER    XIX 

THE    PLAY,    THE    STAKE,    AND    THE    PLAYERS 

MEANWHILE,  what  of  the  Countess  Anne  and 
Captain  Grafton?  They  had  passed  through  a  week 
of  such  mingled  emotions,  such  alternations  of 
joy  and  sorrow,  of  love  and  jealousy,  of  remem 
brances  and  anticipation,  as  could  scarcely  be  de 
scribed. 

When  the  woman  he  loved  left  him  alone  the 
night  he  recognised  her,  after  that  rapturous  ex 
change  of  kisses,  Grafton  felt  himself  transported  to 
heaven.  He  forgot,  in  the  happiness  consequent 
upon  his  discovery  of  her  identity,  the  racial  antag 
onisms  which  should  lie  between  them;  he  forgot 
the  great  gulf  of  war  which  held  them  asunder;  he 
even  forgot  the  engagement  of  Anne  to  de  Vitre. 
But  the  next  morning,  when  the  first  glow  of  his 
passion  had  left  him,  he  was  enabled  to  view  things 
in  a  clearer  light. 

He  carefully  took  account  of  the  different  ob 
stacles  which  separated,  or  might  tend  to  separate, 
him  from  the  woman  he  loved.  He  intended  to 
win  her,  come  what  might,  and  as  the  campaign 
was  like  to  prove  a  difficult  one,  in  which  the  odds 
were  mainly  against  him,  it  behooved  him  to  take 

1 88 


The  Play,  the  Stake,  and  Players 

stock  of  all  opposition  and  carefully  look  over  the 
field.  He  must  think,  he  must  plan,  he  must  leave 
no  stone  unturned,  lose  no  point  in  the  game. 

First  of  all  he  was  an  American,  and  that  was 
different  from  being  an  Englishman.  Anne,  al 
though  she  showed  little  of  it  to  a  casual  inspection, 
was  an  American  as  well.  That  was  a  point  gained. 
The  war,  he  believed,  would  presently  be  over. 
That  was  another  point  in  his  favour.  If  she  loved 
him — if  she  loved  him!  Who  could  doubt  it  after 
last  night?  Indeed,  God  had  created  them  for  each 
other.  But  did  she  love  him  enough  to  brave  the 
anger  and  defy  the  opposition  of  her  grandfather? 
Did  she  love  him  enough  to  marry  him  in  de 
spite  of  country,  nationality,  public  opinion?  -He 
thought  so. 

She  had  great  pride  of  race,  and  from  the  French 
point  of  view  she  would  be  condescending  ineffably 
in  marrying  a  mere  commoner.  For  the  matter  of 
that,  he  thought,  in  his  loving  humility,  that  no  man 
was  fit  to  possess  this  priceless  jewel  of  womanhood. 
He  placed  her  upon  a  level  so  high  that  she  would 
have  been  compelled  to  condescend  to  marry  even  a 
king,  much  less  a  simple  American  gentleman. 
Marriage  with  him  meant  for  her  the  renunciation 
of  title,  rank,  station,  possessions,  country,  family, 
friends,  traditions — he  piled  up  the  catalogue  of  sac 
rifices  involved,  in  gloomy,  ever-deepening  humil 
ity.  Still,  other  women  had  done  such  things;  these 
were  not  insuperable  obstacles. 

The  last  difficulty  was  the  greatest.  There  was 
de  Vitre — a  stumbling-block  indeed.  No  man 

189 


The  guiberon  Touch 

could  have  done  more  for  another  than  he  had  done 
for  the  young  Frenchman.  He  had  twice  saved  his 
life,  he  had  established  his  honour,  and,  by  a  singu 
larly  ironic  trick  of  fate,  he  feared  he  had  been  the 
means  of  bestowing  upon  him  the  hand  of  the  wom 
an  they  both  loved. 

His  own  sense  of  the  obligation  he  had  conferred 
upon  that  young  Frenchman  lay  heavily  upon  his 
soul.  He  could  not  demand  from  him  freely  or 
even  take  from  him  by  force  what  he  would  have 
wrested  cheerfully  from  another.  A  benefit  con 
ferred,  however  it  may  be  considered  by  the  recipi 
ent  as  a  benefit  forgot,  invariably  establishes  a  sense 
of  obligation  on  him  who  confers  it.  Therefore,  de 
Vitre  was  an  obstacle  of  the  most  serious  moment 
to  the  future  progress  of  his  happiness.  How  to 
contend  with  him  he  knew  not.  Certainly  he  could 
not  make  the  relinquishment  of  the  Frenchman's 
desire  for  Anne  the  price,  or  the  reward,  of  his  own 
past  services.  A  genuine  man,  he  could  not  even 
bear  to  have  these  services  mentioned;  and  that  they 
so  persistently  remained  in  his  thoughts  gave  him 
honourable  uneasiness.  A  very  exalted  and  chiv- 
alric  nature  had  Philip  Grafton.  He  was  particu 
larly  nice  on  the  point  of  honour. 

That  was  not  all  either,  for  connected  with  de 
Vitre  was  the  honour  of  the  de  Rohans.  Anne,  in 
the  most  public  manner  and  of  her  own  free  will, 
had  betrothed  herself  to  the  young  Frenchman. 
She  had  voluntarily  entered  upon  the  relationship 
and  assumed  the  obligation.  Her  sense  of  hon 
our  was  not  less  keen  than  his.  She  was  a  wom- 

190 


The  Play,  the  Stake,  and  Players 

an,  he  remembered,  imbued  with  all  the  tradi 
tions  of  that  race  whose  proud  boast  it  was  that 
while  they  had  not  been  born  to  the  kingly  degree 
and  they  would  not  condescend  to  the  princely 
rank,  yet  they  were  Rohans.  Was  Anne  capable 
of  sacrificing  her  word  for  her  love?  It  was 
doubtful. 

The  last  consideration  that  arose  in  his  mind  was 
an  acute  conjecture  that  the  marquis  would  not  be 
much  better  satisfied  with  de  Vitre  for  a  suitor  for 
his  grand-daughter  than  he  would  have  been  with 
Grafton.  The  old  man  probably,  nay,  certainly,  had 
formed  his  own  plans,  and  there  was  without  doubt 
a  third  suitor  of  his  personal  choosing  awaiting 
Anne  in  France.  This  meant  much.  If  Grafton 
could  succeed  in  matching  the  marquis'  determi 
nation  against  Anne's  will  power,  between  de  Vitre 
and  the  other,  he  might  the  more  easily  achieve  suc 
cess. 

He  realized  all  these  things,  weighed  them  care 
fully,  considered  them  exhaustively,  and  racked  his 
brain  in  an  endeavour  to  solve  the  problem.  His 
resolute  determination  was  unabated.  That,  his 
love  for  her,  and  her  feeling  for  him,  were  the  three 
things  he  counted  upon  to  enable  him  to  have  his 
way  and  win  her  for  his  own.  He  was  no  longer  a 
boy;  he  did  not  approach  the  problem  lightly  and 
carelessly,  but  with  a  deliberate  calmness  which  out 
wardly  belied  his  passion.  He  was  a  man  thought 
ful  by  nature  and  strengthened  in  character  by  the 
responsibilities  of  his  position  as  the  captain  of  a 
ship,  and  he  deliberately  determined  to  win  the 

191 


The  guiberon  Touch 

person,  as  he  already  possessed  the  heart  of  the 
French  girl. 

It  was  a  sort  of  game  he  played,  with  her  for  the 
stake.  The  grim  old  marquis,  with  his  pride  of 
race,  family,  and  nation,  and  his  ardent  patriotism; 
the  handsome,  dashing  young  Canadian,  the  un 
known  suitor,  who  was  sure  to  be  a  man  of  parts  and 
condition,  and  the  stubborn,  determined  little  Eng 
lishman  would  all  prove  famous  players.  Which 
would  win?  Well,  come  what  might,  Grafton  al 
ready  had  Anne's  heart,  de  Vitre  her  promise,  the 
marquis  her  duty,  and  the  unknown  as  yet,  nothing. 
The  heart  was  the  strongest  card,  he  decided. 

Of  her  love  he  felt  no  doubt;  but  love  and  mar 
riage  were  two  things  that  rarely  went  together  in 
the  mind  of  the  high  nobility  of  France  in  those 
days.  But  stay!  Anne  was  different.  As  a  child, 
when  he  had  known  her  best,  she  had  known  none 
of  these  disagreeable  convenances  of  the  society  of 
her  day.  Had  her  sojourn  in  Canada,  her  entrance 
into  the  gay  little  world  of  New  France,  effected  a 
revolution  in  her  character?  He  did  not  believe  so. 

These  were  torturing  questions  all.  Evening 
found  him  still  thinking  of  them  and  thinking  alone. 
His  wants  had  been  attended  to  by  Josette  or  Jean- 
Renaud,  now  allowed  free  access  to  him.  His  anx 
ious  inquiries  for  the  countess  had  been  met  by  the 
statement  that  she  was  ill  and  could  not  come  to  see 
him — a  declaration  which  added  alarm  to  his  long 
ing  and  disappointment.  His  progress  toward  re 
covery  had  been  rapid,  but  on  the  second  day  of  her 
continued  absence  from  his  room  he  nearly  fretted 

192 


The  Play,  the  Stake,  and  Players 

himself  into  a  fever.  He  found  that  he  could  be 
more  calm  and  cool  in  theory  than  in  practice.  Dr. 
Arnoux  looked  very  grave  when  he  paid  his  after 
noon  visit  that  day,  and,  ignorant  of  the  real  situa 
tion,  spoke  some  blunt  words  to  mademoiselle. 

"  This  Englishman,"  he  said,  "  is  pining,  worry 
ing,  fretting.  Unless  something  can  be  done  to  re 
store  his-  peace  of  mind  I  fear  the  consequences  may 
be  serious;  inflammation  may  set  in  in  his  feverish 
condition,  and  then " 

His  ominous  gesture  frightened  her  greatly. 

"  Can't  you,  mademoiselle,  cheer  him  up,  dis 
tract  his  mind  in  some  way?  "  he  asked. 

Anne  knew  only  too  well  what  ailed  her  patient. 
She  had  distracted  him  too  much  already,  possibly; 
yet,  when  she  heard  of  the  threatened  danger,  with 
her  usual  impetuosity  she  threw  prudence  to  the 
winds,  broke  her  promise  to  herself,  and  fled  to  the 
chamber.  He  heard  her  fleet  step  on  the  stair,  and 
when  she  entered  he  faced  her  from  the  pillow  with 
such  a  smile  of  hope  and  joy  as  completely  trans 
formed  him. 

"Anne!  Anne!"  he  murmured  reproachfully, 
"  for  two  whole  days  I  have  lain  here  alone  thinking, 
thinking,  thinking,  dreaming,  loving,  until  I  won 
der  I  did  not  go  mad!  And  you  never  came!  " 

"  I  sent  Josette,  monsieur." 

"  Josette!  You  might  have  sent  every  woman, 
every  messenger  in  the  world,  and  I  would  have 
thought  only  of  you!  How  could  you  be  so  cruel? 
You  love  me,  yet  you  left  me!  " 

"  How  can  I  love  the  enemy  of  France,  mon- 

193 


The  guiberon  Touch 

sieur?  "  she  answered,  gazing  down  upon  him  with 
eyes  that  gave  the  lie  to  the  cold  words  on  her  lips. 

"  I  know  not  how  you  can,  but  you  can  not  deny 
that  you  do.  Anne,  sweet  Anne,  you  are  half  Amer 
ican.  This  land  is  the  home  of  your  mother.  Let 
it  be  the  home  of  your  heart  as  well!  " 

"  And  my  grandfather,  the  marquis?  He  would 
never  consent." 

"  Faith,  your  own  consent  is  all  that  is  necessary, 
sweetheart.  If  you  love  me  enough " 

"  But  I  am  betrothed  to  Monsieur  de  Vitre." 

"  Why  did  you  do  it  at  the  last  moment,  after 
you  had  recognised  me,  when  fate — happy  fate — 
threw  me  at  your  feet?  " 

"  I— I " 

"  You  do  not  love  him,  Anne,  dearest?  Come, 
the  truth !  The  de  Rohans  were  ever  true,  you  told 
me." 

"  Ah,  monsieur,  I  respect  and  admire  Monsieur 
de  Vitre.  He  is  a  brave  and  noble  gentleman." 

"  Yes,  but  you  do  not  love  him?  " 

"  How  dare  you  catechize  me  in  this  manner?  " 
she  cried  piteously,  shrinking  from  his  persistent 
questioning.  "  I  will  withdraw,  sir.  What  warrant 
have  you " 

But  she  made  no  motion  to  leave  the  apartment. 
On  the  contrary,  he  saw  her  body  sway  uneasily 
toward  him.  She  could  not  control  her  feelings. 
If  he  had  not  been  so  ill,  so  weak,  so  pathetically 
helpless,  he  would  have  appealed  less  strongly  to 
her,  she  might  have  resisted  better.  She  was  angry 
at  herself  for  her  lack  of  control,  and  bitterly  morti- 

194 


The  Play,   the  Stake,  and  Players 

fied.  Was  this  man  her  master  in  truth?  And  he 
wore  another  woman's  picture!  Shame  on  her, 
shame!  Could  he  compel  her  to  break  her  word, 
defy  everything,  and  marry  him  against  her  will? 
Ah,  but  was  it  against  her  will?  There  was  the  rub. 

She  stood  helpless  before  him.  The  whole  cur 
rent  of  her  being  flowing  toward  him,  only  her  stub 
born  will  and  pride  holding  her  back.  But  the  strug 
gle  could  not  be  maintained  for  long.  He  marked 
the  rise  and  fall  of  her  breast.  Her  ringers  moved 
restlessly,  her  knees  trembled,  her  eyes  swam,  her 
colour  came  and  went.  The  constraint  she  was 
under  was  terrible. 

The  girl  loved  him  with  all  her  soul.  Yet  she 
struggled  on;  she  would  not  yield.  'Twas  an  un 
equal  combat.  She  fought  two:  his  will  and  her 
love.  The  end  was  certain.  He  felt  it  was  almost 
cruel  as  he  watched  her  and  knew  it  would  come. 
All  she  needed  in  that  moment  to  bring  her  to  him 
was  time.  He  was  wise  enough  not  to  be  hasty. 
He  put  equal  constraint  upon  himself;  indeed,  his 
love  was  no  less  than  her  own. 

"  I  have  only  the  warrant  of  my  love  for  you  to 
plead  my  cause,"  he  answered  at  last. 

"  Have  you  loved  me  all  the  time?  "  she  cried, 
coming  a  step  nearer. 

"  I  know  not,"  he  answered  honestly  before 
her  truth-compelling  gaze,  "  but  at  least  I  have 
loved  no  one  else,  and  since  the  night  in  the  tower 
there  has  not  been  a  day  in  which  I  have  not  thought 
of  you.  But  never  in  my  wildest  visions  did  you 
appear  so  beautiful  as  you  are  to-day,  Anne,  sweet 

195 


The  guiberon  Touch 

Anne!  Dear  Little  France!  My  heart  knew  you, 
even  though  my  false  eyes  told  no  story  to  my  be 
wildered  mind.  'Twas  God  that  brought  us  to 
gether  again.  We  can  not  be  separated,  my  sweet, 
my  own!  " 

"  But  Monsieur  de  Vitre,  my  engagement " 

"  I  ask  you  again  why  it  was  you  entered  upon  it 
so  suddenly?  " 

"  I  saw  that  locket  you  wear  over  your  heart, 
Sir  Philip,  whose  secret  you  guard  so  jealously,  from 
which  you  will  not  be  parted.  You  did  not  know 
me.  You  had  forgotten  me.  There  was  some  one 
else,"  she  murmured.  "  I  can  not  marry  the  enemy 
of  my  country.  I  should  be  an  outcast,  despised. 
You  fainted  in  the  hall  of  the  chateau.  Monsieur 
de  Vitre  was  there.  When  I  knelt  beside  you  I — 
I — looked  at  you,  monsieur.  I  forgot  myself — a 
little.  I  betrayed  myself  unsought — unknown  even. 
Monsieur  de  Vitre  cried  out  before  them  all  that 
I  loved  you.  The  thought  stung  me — my  pride, 
you  know.  I  could  not  bear  it.  There  was  but  one 
way.  He  had  besought  me  for  my  hand.  I  dared 
not  trust  myself  before  you  unpledged.  They 
looked  at  me  so  earnestly.  It  was  a  foretaste  of  what 
I  should  meet.  I  stopped  every  gossiping  tongue, 
stifled  every  suspicion  by  saying  '  Yes  '  to  my  brave 
countryman.  I — I  do  not  regret  it." 

She  forced  herself  to  lift  her  head  and  look  at 
him  white-faced  and  trembling.  His  bold,  burning 
glances  plunged  through  her  defences  like  a  sword- 
blade. 

'This  from  the  truthful  de  Rohan!"  he  mur- 
196 


The  Play,   the  Stake,  and  Players 

mured  coldly,  but  with  a  breaking  heart.  "  If  you 
looked  at  me  dying  then — and  perhaps  dying  now 
after  that  word — if  you  looked  at  me  then  as  you 
look  at  me  this  moment,  there  were  no  ground  for 
de  Vitre's  suspicion.  Is  this  your  fidelity!  Go! 
You  have  not — you  do  not  love  me." 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  beneath  his 
stern  accusing  gaze — his  reproaches  seared  her 
heart.  She  had  not  told  the  truth  to  him. 

"  Go,  mademoiselle!  "  he  continued  pitilessly, 
ruthlessly  turning  the  weapon  he  had  thrust  into  her 
heart.  "  The  other  night — does  my  imagination 
mock  me,  or  did  I  dream  of  heaven,  of  your  kisses? 
Were  the  lips  that  now  betray  those  that  met  my 
own?  Was  it  that  sweet  head  that  lay  upon  my 
breast?  Was  it  all  a  vision?  Did  I  ever  live  for 
an  hour  with  you  in  that  old  dark  tower  by  the  sea? 
Was  I  indeed  the  knight  of  that  gentle  child  who 
wrapped  herself  around  my  heart?  You  weep, 
mademoiselle.  Why?  Happiness  opens  before  you. 
You  are  the  betrothed  of  de  Vitre " 

"  No  more!  "  she  cried,  tearing  her  hands  from 
her  face  and  springing  toward  him.  She  seized  his 
arm  and  unwounded  shoulder  with  a  grasp  that  was 
painful  in  its  intensity.  "No  more!  No  more! 
You  torture  me  beyond  endurance!  'Tis  no  dream. 
I  love  you,  I  adore  you,  my  king,  my  king!  What 
are  country,  and  grandfather,  and  friends,  and  all 
the  world  to  me  beside  you !  " 

She  bent  her  glorious  head  once  more  and  kissed 
him  as  she  had  kissed  him  in  the  moonlight  two 
nights  before.  Had  he  won?  This  time  he  did  not 

197 


The  Ouiberon  Touch 

ffw 

lose  control  of  himself.  She  was  living  that  mo 
ment  in  the  present,  he  could  still,  while  sharing  her 
emotion,  think  of  the  future.  He  would  strike  at 
once. 

"  But  de  Vitre?  "  he  exclaimed. 

She  drew  herself  away  from  him  slowly,  rose 
tremblingly  to  her  feet,  and  looked  down  upon  him 
again. 

;'  You  remind  me,"  she  said  brokenly,  "  of  my 
word,  my  duty.  I  know  not  how  it  is,"  she  contin 
ued,  "  why  I  am  so  weak  before  you.  Is  it  the 
strength  of  your  love  or  the  strength  of  mine?  But 
I  will  be  mistress  of  myself.  I  can  not  break  my 
word.  I  can  not  break  my  old  grandfather's  heart. 
I  can  not  dishonour  the  name  of  my  family.  I  am 
a  de  Rohan  though  but  a  woman.  I  will  not " 

"  Hear  me,  Anne!  "  cried  Grafton,  stretching  out 
his  hand  to  heaven,  "  before  God  I  swear  you  shall ! 
You  shall  break  your  word  with  de  Vitre!  You 
shall  put  aside  your  country!  You  shall  cross  the 
will  of  your  people!  You  are  mine  by  prior  right. 
I  will  make  you  do  it!  You  shall  be  my  wife!  " 

"  How,  monsieur,  will  you  bring  about  these 
things?  "  she  cried  boldly,  every  nerve  in  her  body 
thrilling  and  quivering  in  passionate  response  to  the 
imperious  affection  in  his  words.  "  What  power 
have  you?  What  is  it  that  will  give  you  strength?  " 

"  The  power  of  love,  Anne!  "  answered  Philip. 
"  When  two  love  each  other  as  we  love  nothing  can 
come  between  them." 

She  looked  long  and  earnestly  at  him.  He 
spoke  the  truth,  and  she  knew  it,  yet  with  the  stub- 

198 


The  Play,  the  Stake,  and  Players 

bornness  of  a  man  and  the  devotion  of  a  woman  she 
clung  to  her  negation.  Presently,  as  he  said  noth 
ing  further,  she  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Wait!  "  he  cried  from  where  he  lay  exhausted 
by  his  own  feelings.  "  Before  you  go,  promise  me 
that  you  will  come  again?  That  each  day  you  will 
let  me  see  you  at  least  once?  " 

"  I  promise  you,  Sir  Philip,"  she  answered,  "  but 
I  must  have  no  more  of  this.  Indeed,  I  can  not 
stand  it.  Tis  not  right,  it  comports  not  with  my 
honour.  You  must  promise  me,  too.  I  am  pledged 
still  to  Monsieur  de  Vitre." 

She  was  almost  humble  in  her  petition,  as  if  to 
say,  "  You  have  the  power,  you  know  it,  oh,  abuse 
it  not,  if  you  indeed  love  the  woman  who  has  given 
you  her  heart."  Her  appeal  met  with  an  immedi 
ate  and  generous  response  from  him. 

"  God  bless  you,  Anne,  for  the  saving  grace  of 
that  word  '  still '!  "  he  cried.  "  I  promise  you.  I 
shall  ask  no  kiss  of  you,  expect  no  caress  from  you, 
beg  no  further  word  of  love,  until  your  engage 
ment  with  de  Vitre  is  broken." 

"  That  will  never  be,  monsieur,"  she  said  sadly, 
yet  taking  heart  and  cherishing  hope  from  his  bold 
assurance.  "  Au  revoir." 

With  reluctant  feet  the  girl  turned  and  left  the 
chamber.  She  sank  down  before  the  prie-dieu  in 
the  room  which  she  had  occupied  since  Grafton 
came,  and  poured  out  her  soul  to  the  Mother  of 
Sorrows  in  appeals  for  pity  and  help.  He  loved  her, 
O  Blessed  Virgin,  and  she  loved  him.  How  mas 
terful  he  was!  He  had  sworn  she  would  be  his  wife. 

199 


The   guiberon  Touch 

His  wife,  yet,  pitying  Heaven,  that  other  woman 
whose  face  he  wore  over  his  heart!  She  tore  the 
lace  at  her  breast  in  wild  and  jealous  pain  at  the 
thought.  Was  it  possible  for  a  girl  to  be  at  the 
same  time  so  happy  and  miserable? 
Poor  Denis  de  Vitre! 


200 


CHAPTER  XX 

ANNE  DE  ROHAN  SAYS FAREWELL! 

GRAFTON  saw  Anne  de  Rohan  daily  after  that. 
She  kept  her  promise,  and,  touched  by  her  depend 
ence,  he  did  the  same.  Yet  not  without  a  struggle, 
for  the  effort  told  on  each  of  them.  She  had  ven 
tured  into  his  room  timorously  the  next  day,  but  as 
he  allowed  his  love  to  express  itself  only  through 
the  medium  of  his  eyes,  which  drank  in  her  beauty 
as  the  field  the  rain,  she  had  become  somewhat  re 
assured,  and  had  not  hesitated  to  come  to  his 
chamber  more  frequently. 

It  was  lucky  for  him  that  her  relative  had  died 
before  he  fell  at  her  door,  and  it  was  also  fortunate 
that,  unconsciously,  the  frank  freedom  of  Anne's 
American  blood  permitted  her  to  do  things  to 
which,  as  a  French  girl,  she  could  never  have  con 
sented.  She  was  thoroughly  French  in  her  emo 
tions  and  quite  American  in  her  instincts — a  delight 
ful  combination  indeed. 

The  two  found  much  to  talk  about.  The  his 
tory  of  the  years  intervening  between  their  parting 
and  meeting,  which  had  been  crowded  with  inci 
dents  and  adventures  for  both  of  them,  was  gone 
over  with  minute  care.  It  seemed  to  Philip  that 
J4  20 1 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

every  petty  or  trifling  incident  in  which  she  had 
borne  a  part  was  of  priceless  value  to  him,  and  Anne 
hung  with  equal  interest  and  equal  craving  to  know 
all  the  life  of  the  man  she  loved,  upon  every  detail 
of  the  varied  experiences  with  which  the  life  of  a 
sailor  of  that  period  teemed.  The  strange  series  of 
events  which  had  brought  the  two  who  had  parted 
in  Brittany,  together  again  in  Canada,  could  not 
be  sufficiently  dwelt  upon,  nor  the  marvellous 
coincidence  of  that  meeting  too  strongly  empha 
sized. 

Anne  found  Philip  all  that  she  had  dreamed  him, 
too.  He  had  grown  in  dignity  and  in  solid  learning, 
and  she  discovered  the  instinctive  respect  she  had 
felt  for  him  as  a  child,  and  which  had  been  the  pre 
cursor  of  her  love  for  him,  rested  upon  a  sound  basis 
of  ability  and  culture.  For  his  part  he  marvelled 
at  the  acuteness  of  her  intellect,  the  poetic  charm 
of  her  fancy,  and  the  purity  of  her  soul,  as  she  un 
folded  it  before  him  by  her  frank  yet  artless  conver 
sation. 

In  all  this  they  neither  of  them  touched  upon  the 
subject  which  was  uppermost  in  their  hearts.  They 
looked  love,  they  thought  love,  they  lived  love,  but 
they  did  not  speak  it;  yet  the  most  casual  observer 
could  have  seen  it  in  every  gesture,  in  every  intona 
tion,  in  every  phrase,  in  every  glance. 

Jean-Renaud  and  Josette,  who  watched  over 
their  young  mistress  faithfully  and  devotedly,  easily 
detected  the  situation  with  feelings  of  pain  and  anx 
iety.  Josette,  who  had  grown  more  and  more  the 
confidante  of  her  mistress,  ventured  to  bring  again 

202 


Anne  de  Rohan  says — Farewell 

and  again  the  marquis  and  de  Vitre  to  the  countess' 
attention. 

De  Vitre  was  a  subject  Anne  consistently  avoid 
ed.  Her  intentions  toward  him  were  unchanged; 
she  fully  expected,  with  the  consent  of  the  marquis, 
to  carry  out  the  engagement  which  she  had  entered 
upon -so  impulsively  and  yet  not  without  reason. 
For  the  present,  however,  she  dismissed  him  from 
her  consideration  and  gathered  what  enjoyment  she 
could  out  of  the  fleeting  moments.  She  would  have 
enough  of  him  in  the  future,  only  the  day  was  her 
own. 

Not  so  with  Grafton.  De  Vitre,  after  Anne, 
completely  filled  his  thoughts.  What  to  do  about 
that  young  man  he  scarcely  knew.  His  intention, 
however,  was  as  strong  as  ever.  Indeed,  the  more 
he  saw  of  Anne  the  more  intense  his  passion  grew 
and  the  more  resolute  his  determination  to  break 
the  engagement  with  de  Vitre  became,  but  he  could 
think  of  no  practicable  plan. 

The  favours  he  had  bestowed  upon  that  young 
man,  the  obligations  under  which  he  had  laid  him, 
seemed  to  Grafton's  nice  sense  of  honour  to  pre 
clude  speaking  to  him  upon  the  subject.  Were  it 
any  other  man  in  France  or  Canada  he  would  not 
have  hesitated  to  tell  his  story,  announce  his  deter 
mination,  and  win  the  maiden  if  necessary  by  force 
of  arms;  but  he  could  not  do  this  with  de  Vitre. 
He  could  exact  no  reward  for  benefits  conferred. 
He  could  do  nothing  to  him  at  present  at  any  rate. 
A  life  saved,  a  character  rehabilitated,  stood  in  the 
way.  It  was  a  perplexing  problem,  to  which  no  so- 

203 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

lution  could  be  thought  out,  though  he  bent  to  the 
consideration  of  it  all  the  genius  and  intellect  of 
which  he  was  possessed. 

Meanwhile,  under  the  skilled  nursing  he  re 
ceived,  aided  by  a  sound  and  vigorous  constitution, 
he  made  rapid  progress  toward  recovery  from  his 
wounds.  The  first  time  he  sat  up  in  his  chamber 
Anne  happened  to  be  with  him.  Jean-Renaud  had 
dressed  him  and  assisted  him  to  a  capacious  chair 
which  was  placed  near  the  window  and  from  which 
he  had  a  clear  view  of  the  street.  The  little  family, 
by  Anne's  orders,  had  kept  close  at  home,  and  the 
tremendous  events  which  had  culminated  in  the 
surrender  of  the  town  were  as  yet  unknown  to 
them. 

The  rain,  which  had  been  drearily  pouring  down 
for  a  day  or  two,  had  cleared  away,  and  the  Septem 
ber  sun  was  shining  brilliantly  outside.  The  day 
was  mild,  the  air  balmy,  and  Philip  sat  at  the  open 
window  drinking  in  the  freshness  of  the  morning. 
He  looked  handsomer  than  ever  to  the  girl  who 
stood  by  his  side.  The  unusual  pallor  of  his  illness 
had  been  modified  and  a  faint  flush  of  colour  upon 
his  pale  cheek  told  of  returning  health. 

There  was  a  blowing  of  bugles,  a  rattling  of 
drums,  the  sound  of  martial  music  heard  in  the 
street.  They  listened.  It  grew  louder.  Troops 
were  approaching. 

"  Those  are  not  French  drums,"  said  Grafton. 
"Hark!  'Tis  an  English  roll!  They  are  playing 
The  British  Grenadiers!  What  has  happened?" 

He  leaned  forward  anxiously,  but  Anne  checked 
204 


Anne  de  Rohan  says — Farewell 

his  motion  to  rise,  and  thrust  her  head  out  of  the 
window. 

"  Soldiers  are  approaching,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  he  cried.    "  Their  uniforms?  " 

"  They  wear  red  coats  and  shining  caps.  They 
are  English.  They  are  coming  nearer.  You  can 
see  them  in  a  moment.  What  can  it  be?  " 

"  'Tis  a  surrender!  "  cried  Philip  exultingly. 

"Alas!  yes,  it  must  be  so,"  answered  the  girl, 
turning  toward  him. 

"  Forgive  my  inconsiderate  triumph,  Anne,"  he 
answered  softly,  seizing  her  hand  and  carrying  it  to 
his  lips. 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  other  hand  and 
the  tears  trickled  silently  down  her  cheeks,  while  the 
advance  guard  of  the  British  Grenadiers  coming  to 
take  possession,  marched  gaily  by  amid  the  silence 
of  the  people  looking  gloomily  on. 

There  was  a  step  outside  on  the  stair.  De  Vitre, 
pale  and  haggard,  entered  the  room. 

"  Monsieur  de  Vitre!  "  cried  the  girl,  surprised 
and  disquieted.  "  What  means  this  unceremonious 
entrance?  " 

"  Mademoiselle  Anne,"  answered  the  French 
man,  bowing  profoundly,  "  forgive  my  haste,  the 
city  has  surrendered.  The  English  troops  are  ap 
proaching.  I  came  to  protect  you,  fearful  lest " 

"  The  English  soldiers  war  not  upon  women, 
Monsieur  de  Vitre,"  interrupted  Grafton  sharply, 
leaning  forward,  his  face  full  of  colour  at  the  pres 
ence  of  his  rival.  "  Besides,  I  am  here." 

"  But  you  are  ill,  sir,  and  while  I  respect  the  Eng- 
205 


The  guiberon  Touch 

lish  soldiers,  there  are  always  evil-minded  persons 
in  the  wake  of  an  army,  and  surrender  brings  out  all 
the  vicious  elements  in  our  own  population.  I  love 
Mademoiselle  de  Rohan,  as  you  know.  She  is  be 
trothed  to  me.  I  am  but  this  moment  released  by 
the  governor.  Naturally  I  came  to  her." 

"  And  you  are  right,  Monsieur  de  Vitre.  I 
doubt  not  I  shall  need  your  protection,"  said  Anne, 
determined  at  last  that  all  should  be  ended  now. 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  honour  me,"  cried  the  de 
lighted  Frenchman.  "  I  hope  to  deserve  your  con 
fidence  now  and  always." 

In  spite  of  his  jealous  anguish,  Philip  could  not 
refuse  to  accord  his  rival  a  meed  of  praise.  He  was 
a  tall,  handsome,  gallant-looking  sailor,  whose  every 
movement  was  full  of  grace.  There  was  no  doubt 
as  to  the  depth  of  his  affection  for  Anne  de  Rohan 
either.  A  hard  task  indeed  was  before  Master  Philip 
Grafton. 

"  Oh,  Mademoiselle,"  continued  de  Vitre,  step 
ping  nearer  her  and  seizing  her  hand,  "  you  made 
me  so  happy  by  what  you  said  in  the  chateau.  I 
have  chafed  in  my  restraint,  wondering  if  it  were 
true,  fearful  that  I  have  dreamed  it.  For  what  had 
I  done  to  deserve  it?  " 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Anne  quickly,  catching  sight 
of  Grafton's  clinched  hands  and  convulsed  face, 
which  nothing  but  his  own  passion  kept  from  the 
observation  of  the  Frenchman,  "  Monsieur,  I  seize 
the  first  opportunity  to  say  what  I  had  scarcely  time 
to  explain,  or  what  you  probably  did  not  compre 
hend,  when  I  bestowed  upon  you  my  hand.  I  have 

206 


Anne  de  Rohan  says — Farewell 

given  my  promise  to  you,  and  that  promise  I  mean 
to  keep,  but,  monsieur,  there  is  another  who  must 
be  consulted.  The  Marquis  de  Chabot,  my  grand 
father;  the  ultimate  disposal  of  my  hand  and  for 
tune  rests  with  him.  Before  the  engagement  is  rati 
fied  or — in  short,  monsieur,  I  beg  you  to  treat  me  as 
your  friend,  until  you  have  gained  the  consent  of 
the  head  of  my  house  to  this  marriage." 

A  load  that  had  crushed  Philip  to  the  earth  was 
lifted  from  his  heart  as  he  heard  these  words.  It 
was  a  respite  she  was  giving  him.  At  least  he  would 
not  have  the  torture  of  the  thought  that  the  lips 
which  had  melted  upon  his  own  should  quiver,  how 
ever  reluctantly,  under  the  touch  of  de  Vitre — not 
yet. 

Time,  only  give  him  time.  He  would  find  a  way 
to  take  her,  even  if  he  had  to  snatch  her  from  the 
very  heart  of  France,  from  the  steps  of  the  throne, 
even.  He  breathed  again  as  he  listened. 

"  At  least,"  murmured  de  Vitre,  who  was  visibly 
disconcerted  by  this  deliberate  statement  from  the 
woman  he  loved,  "  at  least  say  that  you  love  me." 

Philip's  heart  stood  still  for  a  moment;  but  the 
girl  was  equal  to  the  situation. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  answered,  "  I  did  not  say  that 
in  the  hall,  I  can  not  say  it  now.  I  respect  you,  I 
esteem  you." 

"  Is  there  any  other  one?  "  he  cried  jealously. 

"  Monsieur  de  Vitre,  there  is  no  gentleman  of 
France  who  stands  higher  in  my  regard  than  you 
do;  let  that  suffice  you,  sir." 

Whether  he  noticed  the  equivocation  or  not  she 
207 


The  guiberon  Touch 

could  not  tell,  for  she  gave  him  no  opportunity  to  in 
terrogate  her  further.  "  You  must  press  me  no 
more,  monsieur,"  she  added,  "  I  have  said  enough." 

"  Good  God,  de  Vitre!  "  exclaimed  Grafton  im 
patiently  at  this  moment.  "  Aren't  you  satisfied 
with  what  you  have,  man?  Half  of  New  France  is 
filled  with  envy  and  would  fain  stand  in  your  shoes, 
I  warrant  you." 

"  Monsieur  Grafton,"  cried  de  Vitre  haughtily 
at  this  unheard-of  interruption,  "  by  what  right  do 
you  presume — but  stop — I  forgot  myself.  You 
have  every  right.  Say  what  you  will,  captain.  I 
can  not  forget  that  I  owe  you  life,  liberty,  and  love! 
I  can  never  repay  you,  but  upon  the  honour  of  a 
Canadian,  a  Frenchman,  you  can  ask  nothing  of  me 
that  I  will  not  grant." 

The  truth  that  was  behind  the  grateful  words 
sealed  Grafton's  lips.  For  the  moment  he  almost 
wished  he  had  not  interfered  to  save  his  rival's  life — 
but  he  instantly  put  the  thought  away  as  unworthy 
a  gentleman. 

"  'Tis  nothing,"  he  murmured,  "  you  would 
have  done  as  much  for  me,  for  any  man.  You  put 
too  much  value " 

"  Mademoiselle  Anne,"  cried  Josette,  entering 
the  room  in  great  agitation,  "  a  messenger  from 
Monsieur  de  Ramesay!  " 

Anne  took  the  paper  and  tore  it  open. 

"  A  summons,  gentlemen!  "  she  said,  "  the  gov 
ernor  requires  me  and  my  servants  to  attend  him 
at  once  at  the  Chateau  St.  Louis.  He  thinks  we 
will  be  safer  with  him.  He  knows  of  your  pres- 

208 


Anne  de  Rohan  says — Farewell 

ence,  Monsieur  de  Vitre,  for  he  says  you  will  es 
cort  us." 

Anne  was  glad  to  have  the  scene  over.  The 
emotions  of  the  last  few  moments  had  been  almost 
too  much  for  her.  As  Josette  brought  her  hat  and 
wrap  she  turned  to  Grafton,  extending  her  hand. 

"  Farewell,  monsieur!  "  she  said. 

"  'Tis  not  good-bye,  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan!  " 
cried  Grafton,  seizing  her  hand,  "  I  shall  see  you 
again!  " 

"  I  shall  always  be  glad  to  see  you,  monsieur," 
she  answered  simply,  biting  her  lip  to  control  its 
quivering.  "  Come,  Monsieur  de  Vitre." 

"  My  friend,"  said  de  Vitre,  ere  he  followed  her 
from  the  room,  "  have  no  anxiety.  I  will  see  that 
some  one  comes  to  you  at  once." 

"  But  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan?  "  cried  Grafton. 

"  I  will  take  care  of  her,  monsieur,"  returned 
the  Frenchman  meaningly.  "  Remember,  'tis  my 
right." 

In  one  sense  de  Vitre  was  as  good  as  his  word, 
for  the  room  was  soon  rilled  with  English  officers, 
who  welcomed  Grafton  as  one  risen  from  the  dead. 
They  had  given  him  over  for  lost  at  last,  not  having 
heard  from  him,  and  he  had  the  pleasure  later  on 
of  reading  his  own  obituary  in  the  general  orders 
commending  his  conduct  on  the  debarkation  of  the 
troops,  which  had  been  published  by  the  vice-ad 
miral. 

Several  days  passed  without  his  seeing  or  hear 
ing  anything  from  Anne  de  Rohan  in  spite  of  his 
inquiries,  days  filled  with  the  most  consuming  anx- 

209 


The  £)uiberon  Touch 

iety.  Yet  he  had  endeavoured  to  be  patient,  having 
set  himself  resolutely  to  get  well,  and  had  made 
much  progress  in  recovering  from  his  wounds.  He 
realized  that  he  could  not  afford  to  lose  any  time  in 
the  fight  for  Anne.  On  the  fourth  day  a  note  was 
put  into  his  hand: 

"  Philip,  my  Philip,"  it  read,  "  my  knight,  my 
love,  I  am  calling  you  so  for  the  last  time.  When 
you  read  this  I  shall  be  far  down  the  river  on  board 
a  ship  for  France.  With  the  first  of  the  refugees  I 
was  permitted  to  go,  and — forgive  me,  my  own — I 
could  not  trust  myself  to  see  you  again.  I  will  not 
deny — indeed,  how  can  I? — that  I  have  loved  you 
with  a  love  that  more  than  matches  your  own.  Yet 
you  wear  one  woman's  picture  over  your  heart,  dear, 
and  I  humiliate  myself  by  sending  you  this  counter 
feit  presentment  of  another.  Alas,  'tis  all  of  me  that 
you  may  ever  have!  Look  upon  it,  monsieur,  as 
you  have  loved  me  in  spite  of  the  other  and  then 
break  it,  and — forget  me.  Farewell! 

"  ANNE." 

In  a  little  diamond-studded,  heart-shaped  locket, 
which  he  had  often  seen  on  her  breast,  there  was  a 
cunning  miniature  of  the  woman  he  loved.  He 
pressed  it  to  his  lips  and  then  slipped  it  and  the  let 
ter  i,n  a  pocket  near  his  heart.  Then,  with  the  assist 
ance  of  the  English  sailor  who  had  been  detailed  to 
wait  upon  him,  he  made  ready  to  leave. 

He  looked  long  and  earnestly  about  the  room, 
hallowed  by  their  meeting,  filled  with  blessed  asso- 

210 


Anne  de  Rohan  says — Farewell 

ciations  of  her  presence,  ere  he  crossed  the  thresh 
old,  for  he  did  not  intend  to  return. 

He  was  informed  by  General  Townshend,  then 
in  the  patched-up  Chateau  St.  Louis,  when  he  re 
ported  to  him,  that  three  days  since,  the  first  ship 
load  of  fugitives  who  had  cho*sen  to  leave  Canada 
rather  than  remain  under  the  rule  of  the  English, 
had  departed.  Among  them  was  Mademoiselle  de 
Rohan  and  her  servants. 

"  Who  commanded  the  cartel?  "  asked  Graf  ton. 

"  A  Canadian  officer,  who  was  to  be  exchanged 
in  Europe." 

"  And  his  name,  General  Townshend?  " 

"  Lieutenant  Denis  de  Vitre,  he  is  called,  I  be 
lieve,"  answered  the  young  English  general,  looking 
curiously  at  him.  "  By  the  way,  I  have  a  paper  for 
you.  You  are  gazetted  to  the  command  of  the  frig 
ate  Maidstone,  and  you  are  to  carry  despatches  to 
Sir  Edward  Hawke.  Vice-Admiral  Saunders  also 
recommends  you  to  be  given  command  of  the  first 
ship  of  the  line  vacant,  for  your  distinguished  serv 
ices  here.  I  congratulate  you,  captain,"  added  the 
general,  handing  him  the  paper. 

"  When  does' the  Maidstone  sail,  sir?  " 

"  As  soon  as  you  are  able  to  take  her,  I  believe. 
She  has  been  provisioned  for  her  voyage  and  lies  in 
the  basin.  She  will  be  the  first  of  the  English  ships 
to  get  to  sea.  Another  fast  frigate  will  be  sent  to 
Europe  with  despatches,  but  Admiral  Saunders 
thinks  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  Hawke, 
who  is  blockading  Brest,  as  you  know,  should  be 
informed  of  the  fall  of  Quebec;  and  you  are  to  tell 

211 


The  guiberon  Touch 

him  that  Saunders  will  join  him  at  the  earliest  pos 
sible  date,  and  with  the  combined  fleets  they  may 
have  a  chance  to  crush  the  French  under  Conflans. 
I  suppose  you  will  start  in  a  day  or  two?  " 

"  I  start  now,  at  once,  general." 

"  But  your  wound?  " 

"  'Tis  nothing  any  longer.  A  breath  of  sea  air 
will  set  me  up  again.  By  the  way,  where  was  the 
cartel,  commanded  by  Monsieur  de  Vitre,  bound 
for?  " 

"  For  Brest.  He  is  to  be  exchanged  there  and 
the  refugees  landed." 

"  Ah!  And  his  ship,  general?  Was  it  a  speedy 
one,  do  you  know?  " 

"  'Tis  said  he  selected  the  speediest  Frenchman 
in  the  basin." 

"  And  the  Maidstone — do  you  know  anything 
of  her  qualities?  " 

'  The  vice-admiral  told  me  that  he  had  chosen 
the  fastest  ship  in  the  fleet  for  you,  so  you  may 
have  a  chance  of  overhauling  her,  if  you  care  to,  al 
though  they  have  three  days'  start.  Well,  I  wish  you 
bon  voyage,  captain.  You  will,  of  course,  report  to 
Vice-Admiral  Saunders  before  you  leave.  Good 
bye." 

"  I  wonder  what  he's  up  to?  "  thought  the  gen 
eral,  as  Grafton  saluted,  turned  on  his  heel,  and  hur 
riedly  left  the  room. 


212 


BOOK   V 

WHAT  HAPPENED  IN   THE    TOWER 


CHAPTER    XXI 

WET    SHEETS    AND    FLOWING    SEAS 

A  GRAY  sky  and  an  angry  sea. 

A  solitary  ship  in  the  waste  of  waters,  stagger 
ing  along  in  a  roaring  gale  from  the  west;  every  rag 
of  canvas  that  could  safely  be  spread — ay,  and  even 
more — urging  her  forward  before  the  fierce  wind; 
driving  her  madly  through  the  tossing  waves.  A 
lonely,  restless  man  upon  her  deck  passing  the  long 
weary  hours  on  the  forecastle  looking  eagerly  ahead, 
ever  ahead;  turning  like  a  devotee  his  face  to  the 
east,  pointing  his  vessel  toward  the  rising  sun; 
though  driven  aside  by  the  happenings  of  the  sea, 
returning  to  his  goal  with  the  accuracy  and  the 
persistency  with  which  the  polar  needle  swings  to 
ward  its  star. 

A  sailor  watching  with  eagle  glance  every 
weather  indication,  crowding  the  canvas  on  the  ship 
until  the  masts  groaned  and  shivered  like  mountain- 
prisoned  Titans  under  the  tremendous  pressure; 
the  iron-taut  braces  and  stays,  the  nerves  of  the  ship, 
trembled  like  smitten  harp-strings  under  the  mighty 
pull  of  the  mad  tempests  of  bleak  November.  Neg- 

213 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

lecting  no  seamanlike  precaution,  losing  no  point  of 
advantage,  the  little  ship  was  driven  on,  for  if  skill 
were  at  the  helm  love  fleeted  before  the  prow. 

Such  the  picture!    And  its  complement? 

Some  two  hundred  leagues  ahead  of  the  frigate, 
with  the  man  on  the  knightheads  peering  fruitless 
ly  across  the  dark  expanse  of  tossing  water,  an 
other  vessel,  driven  in  like  manner,  steadily  pursued 
its  course  for  the  same  destination.  As  if  conscious 
of  the  unwearying,  indomitable  pursuit,  she,  too, 
made  her  way  onward  madly,  recklessly,  crossing 
the  great  deep. 

Skill  and  seamanship  of  the  highest  type  were 
at  her  service  as  well.  A  willingness  to  drive  was 
there  in  almost  as  great  a  measure,  for  this  ship  was 
homeward  bound.  When  she  dropped  anchor  in 
the  waters  of  France,  those  aboard  of  her,  now  held 
prisoner  by  the  heavy-linked  chain  of  honour,  would 
be  free. 

And  a  woman  hung  over  the  quarter  of  the  sec 
ond  ship  listening  indifferently  to  words  of  sweet 
ness,  responding  not  at  all  to  passionate  pleadings 
that  fell  upon  her  ear;  a  woman,  turning  her  eyes 
back  toward  the  west,  gazing  upon  the  setting  sun 
that  had  carried  down  to  darkness  with  it  her  maid 
en  heart;  a  woman  marking  the  long  white  wake 
of  the  ship,  her  sadness  growing  greater,  her  regret 
deepening,  deepening  with  each  swiftly  passing 
league. 

And  yet  the.  lonely  woman  on  the  quarter-deck 
with  the  infrequent  sunlight  losing  itself  in  her  mid 
night  hair,  with  her  violet  eyes  staring  backward, 

214 


Wet  Sheets  and  Flowing  Seas 

backward,  backward,  from  out  a  pale  face  whose 
whiteness  matched  the  foaming  wave,  was  drawing 
on  as  surely  and  irresistibly  as  the  loadstone  the 
needle,  the  eager  man  upon  the  other  ship. 

"  I  think  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  our  observa 
tions,  captain.  You  see  we  have  had  a  double  check 
on  them  by  working  them  out  independently." 

"  Yes,  we  have  made  no  mistake,  I  am  sure, 
and  yet  there  are  always  happenings  for  which  al 
lowance  must  be  made;  things  that  no  mind,  no  in 
strument,  can  check  on  the  sea." 

"  True,  sir;  but  it  has  all  been  plain  sailing  so  far, 
and  the  way  you  have  watched  and  handled  this 
frigate  has  been  a  marvel  to  me,  and  I  have  sailed  in 
many  ships." 

"  Thank  you.     But  I  have  an  object  in  it  all." 

"  Of  course,  the  despatches  to  Sir  Edward 
Hawke " 

"  Yes,  that  of  course.  Do  you  know,  Hatfield, 
I  haven't  told  you  before,  and  it  isn't  a  thing  that  a 
man  likes  to  talk  about,  any  way,  but  I've  got  to 
tell  you  now,  I  suppose.  Well,  the  fact  is — that  car 
tel,  you  know,  the  one  I've  been  trying  to  overhaul? 
There  is  a — lady — a  Frenchwoman  on  board  of  her 
— and — ryou  see — I  met  her  five  years  ago  when  a 
prisoner  in  France  and  again  in  Canada — and 

"  I  see,  sir,"  answered  Hatfield  wisely,  filling  in 
his  superior's  lame  and  halting  conclusion  by  the 
aid  of  his  own  imagination,  "  and  you  would  see  her 
again?  I  quite  understand." 

Grafton,  whose  face  had  flushed  deeply  while 
215 


The  guiberon  Touch 

he  made  his  executive  officer  the  recipient  of  these 
strange  confidences,  was  greatly  relieved  at  his  ready 
comprehension. 

"  Yes,  that's  it,"  he  answered,  grateful  for  his 
lieutenant's  tact.  "  And  I  mean  to  see  her  once 
more,  by  Heaven,  if  I  have  to  go  into  Brest  to 
doit!" 

"  All  right,  sir,  I'm  with  you  in  anything.  And 
if  I  know  our  bullies  forward,  they'd  like  nothing 
better  than  a  dash  at  a  Frenchman,  for  a  ship,  a 
woman,  or  a " 

"  That  will  do,  Hatfield,"  remarked  Grafton, 
with  a  slight  touch  of  sternness,  "  I  hardly  contem 
plate  calling  upon  the  men  for  any  cutting-out  ex 
pedition  in  this  emergency,  though  I  may  want  your 
help,  my  friend,"  he  added,  softening  the  severity 
of  his  rebuke  by  his  last  words. 

The  friendship  begun  years  since  between  the 
two  men  had  ripened  into  intimacy — although  Hat- 
field  was  much  the  junior  in  years  as  well  as  rank  to 
Grafton — and  the  footing  between  them  when  not 
on  formal  service  was  one  of  hearty  affection  and 
familiar  intimacy.  This  was  an  unusual  relationship 
between  the  captain  and  first  lieutenant  of  a  frigate, 
yet  the  younger  man  never  presumed  upon  it,  and 
the  older  man  never  condescended  on  account  of  it, 
and  no  mischance  had  arisen. 

"  And  you  shall  have  it,  Captain  Grafton,"  re 
plied  the  younger  man  impulsively.  "  Might  I, 
without  presumption,  ask  the  lady's  name?  " 

"  De  Rohan,"  answered  Grafton.  "  The  Coun 
tess  de  Rohan,  the  grand-daughter  of  the  Marquis 

216 


Wet  Sheets  and  Flowing  Seas 

de  Chabot-Rohan,  in  whose  castle  I  was  confined 
five  years  ago.  I  met  her  then  as  a  little  girl,  and  as 
luck,  nay,  Providence,  would  have  it,  I  fell  into  her 
hands  again  in  Canada,  when  I  was  wounded  and 
captured,  you  know." 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  have  a  happy  knack  of 
falling  into  the  hands  of  pretty  ladies  as  a  prisoner." 

"Yes,  haven't  I?"  assented  Grafton,  smiling 
faintly. 

"  I  wish  some  such  luck  would  come  to  me, 
then." 

"  Don't  wish  it  at  all,  my  young  friend,  'tis  a  dan 
gerous  situation  to  be  in." 

"  Have  you  found  it  so?  " 

"  Yes,  I'm  a  prisoner  forever." 

"  Gad,  there  are  worse  fates!  But  are  you  en 
gaged  to  the  lady,  captain?  Don't  answer  me  if  I 
ask  an  impertinent  question,  but  if  I  am  to  help 
you,  I  should  like  to  know  something." 

"  Well,  er — no,  not  exactly,  in  fact,  not  at  all. 
She  is  betrothed  to  Lieutenant  Denis  de  Vitre,  of 
the  French  navy." 

"Oh,  to  him!"  exclaimed  Hatfield,  who  was 
familiar  with  the  public  history  of  de  Vitre's  exploits 
in  Canada. 

"  Yes." 

"  And  is  she — er — in  love  with  him?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  is  she— ah " 

"  Yes,  with  me." 

"  And  can't  you  get  her  to  break  her  engage 
ment?  " 

J5  217 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

"  I  don't  know,  I  think  not.  That  isn't  all.  Of 
course  the  old  marquis,  her  grandfather  and  only 
relative,  is  to  be  considered,  and  he  will  probably 
have  chosen  some  one  in  France  for  her." 

"  That  is  a  complication,  indeed." 

"  Yes,  isn't  it?  But  it  seems  to  me  that  the 
more  people  there  are  in  the  game  the  better  chance 
for  me.  You  see,  so  long  as  she — ah — loves  me,  I 
seem  to  hold  the  winning  card." 

"  Of  course,  but  what  do  you  propose  to  do?  " 

"  I'm  not  sure.  I  shall  deliver  the  despatches  to 
Sir  Edward,  and  then  I  think  I  shall  ask  permission 
to  go  ashore.  You  see,  I  know  the  lay  of  the  land 
thoroughly,  and  I  am  familiar  with  the  old  castle 
where  she  lives,  the  Chateau  de  Josselin,  'tis  called. 
It  lies  on  the  shore  off  the  mouth  of  the  harbour 
entrance.  There  is  a  way  into  it  that  no  one  knows 
but  the  lady,  and  I  think " 

"  Why  do  you  hesitate?  " 

"  Well,  I  saved  the  man's  life,  and  his  honour 
too — de  Vitre's,  you  know — and  I  hardly  like  to 
steal  his  betrothed  bride;  you  see,  he  could  not  very 
well  resent  it  if  I  did — er — gratitude.  I  feel  the  ob 
ligation  I  have  conferred " 

"  Nonsense!  Forgive  my  frankness,  you've 
done  enough  for  him  already.  You  gave  him  life, 
honour,  let  him  be  satisfied  with  that.  Take  love 
for  yourself,  captain." 

"  I  think  I  will,  Hatfield,  and  so " 

"  In  short,  you  mean  to  carry  her  off,  do  you?  " 

"  Yes,  that's  about  it." 

"  Cutting  out  a  woman,  eh,  rather  than  a  ship?  " 
218 


Wet  Sheets  and   Flowing  Seas 

"  Yes.  Now  that  you  know  the  situation,  what 
say  you?  Will  you  join  me?  " 

"  With  all  my  heart!  "  cried  the  younger  man, 
his  eyes  dancing  with  excitement,  "  and  I  should 
like  nothing  better.  Gad,  'twould  be  an  exploit 
indeed  if  we  could  succeed!  They'd  talk  about  it 
forever  in  the  clubs." 

"  Thank  you.  I  knew  you  would,  and  we  will 
succeed  or  die,  my  friend,"  responded  Grafton  im 
petuously,  without  considering  that  the  prospect  of 
death  could  not  be  so  inviting  to  his  friend  as  it  was 
to  himself  in  case  of  failure.  But  Hatfield  was  game. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  stretching  out  his  hand,  "  here's 
my  hand  on  it.  Success  to  our  enterprise!  " 

"  That's  good,"  replied  Grafton,  immensely  re 
lieved.  "  I  was  sure  I  could  depend  upon  you." 

"  Now  tell  me  how  you  propose  to  get  into  the 
castle  if  she's  there." 

"  I  think  she  will  surely  be  there.  De  Vitre  is 
a  thorough  sailor.  I'll  say  that  for  him,  and  a  thor 
ough  gentleman,  too.  He  picked  out  the  fastest 
ship  in  the  basin.  You  know  the  French  build  bet 
ter  ships  than  we  do.  He  has  probably  driven  her 
as  hard  as  we  have  and  he  had  several  days'  start  of 
us.  His  orders  take  him  to  Brest,  and  'tis  most  nat 
ural  that  he  should  take  her  to  the  Chateau  de  Jos- 
selin,  which  is  her  grandfather's  castle.  There  is  an 
oriel  window  in  the  keep  tower  overlooking  the  sea, 
and  there  is  a  practicable  way  of  gaining  the  bal 
cony  surrounding  it." 

"  Land  ho!  "  came  floating  down  from  over  their 
heads. 

219 


The   guiberon  Touch 

"  Where  away?  "  cried  Hatfield  promptly. 

"  Broad  off  the  weather  bow,  sir." 

"  That  ought  to  be  Ushant,"  remarked  Grafton. 

"  Yes,  and  just  where  we  thought  it  would  be, 
off  yonder." 

"  Hold  on  as  we  are,  Hatfield.  We  will  soon 
raise  it  from  the  deck.  We  must  be  making  all  of 
ten  knots  in  this  ripping  breeze.  Do  you  think  she 
could  stand  the  mainto'gallant  sail?  " 

"  Hardly,"  answered  Hatfield,  throwing  a  glance 
aloft.  "  Well,  perhaps  she  might,  but  what  would 
be  the  use  of  it,  captain?  We'll  be  there  quickly 
enough,  anyway." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right.  But  we  ought  to  have 
seen  some  of  Sir  Edward's  fleet  before  this.  I  don't 
understand  it.  Aloft,  there!  " 

"  Sir?  " 

"  Do  you  see  any  sails  to  leeward?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Or  anywhere?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Keep  a  bright  lookout  for  them." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir." 

"  He'd  hardly  be  cruising  so  far  offshore  as  this, 
would  he?  "  said  Hatfield.  "  You  know  when  he 
blockades  he  does  it  closely.  They  say  he's  been 
holding  Brest  so  tightly  closed  all  summer  that  a 
bird  could  not  fly  in  or  out  of  the  harbour  without 
being  noticed." 

"  Yes,  that's  his  way.  I  don't  know  whether  he 
will  be  there  or  not  now,  though,  since  it's  so  late 
in  the  season.  But  let  me  tell  you,  Hatfield,  he's 

220 


Wet   Sheets  and   Flowing   Seas 

done  an  unprecedented  thing  in  sealing  up  the 
Brest  fleet  so  long.  I  think  it  was  old  Cloudesly 
Shovel  who  said  that  a  man  was  a  fool  and  ought  to 
be  broke  if  he  kept  his  ships  out  in  the  Bay  of  Bis 
cay  after  September,  and  here  it  is  the  middle  of 
November,  and  that  war  brig  we  spoke  last  week 
said  that  he  was  still  there  when  she  left,  and  look 
ing  as  if  he  were  going  to  stay  there  all  winter, 
too." 

"  Yes,  that's  like  him." 

"  Like  him!  I  should  say  so;  I  was  a  reefer  on 
the  Devonshire  when  he  knocked  L'Etenduere's 
squadron  into  a  cocked  hat,  and  I've  cruised  with 
him  since;  he  was  an  old  friend  of  my  father's  be 
fore  he  died,  used  to  stop  at  our  house  when  he 
came  to  Boston,  while  he  was  on  the  West  India  sta 
tion.  In  fact,  I  began  my  sea  service  with  him.  I 
never  saw  such  a  man.  He's  as  swift  as  a  frigate 
bird,  and  when  he  strikes  he  hits  like  a  storm.  He 
never  lets  go  either,  and  such  a  fighter!  He's  well 
named  Hawke,  I  think!  " 

"  Ay,  but  I  very  much  doubt  our  running  across 
him  this  morning,"  exclaimed  Hatfield.  "  We 
should  have  seen  a  frigate  surely  by  this  time  if  he 
were  there.  You  see,  this  westerly  gale  has  been 
blowing  for  three  days,  or  maybe  longer,  and  he'll 
find  it  difficult  to  keep  his  position  with  such  a  heavy 
fleet  on  a  lee-shore.  Besides,  the  wind  keeps  the 
French  tight  in  the  harbour.  He  may  have  run 
over  to  Plymouth,  or  Torbay,  ready  to  dash  out 
again  when  the  wind  shifts." 

"  And  perhaps  give  the  French  a  chance  to  slip 
221 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

out,  too.  I'll  wager  a  pound  to  a  penny  he's  been 
praying  they  would  try  it  all  summer  long." 

The  frigate,  on  the  quarter-deck  of  which  the 
two  men  had  been  speaking,  had  been  moving  rap 
idly  through  the  water  and  they  were  much  nearer 
the  coast  now.  Indeed,  the  blink  of  the  land — the 
dim  blue  haze  upon  the  horizon  which  tells  of  voy 
ages  ended  and  havens  near,  and  sometimes  of 
wreck  and  disaster,  when  the  storm  gods  are  out — 
could  be  seen  now  from  the  deck,  and  the  stern 
cliffs  of  Ushant  were  rising  higher  with  every  pass 
ing  moment. 

Save  for  the  land  before  and  to  the  north  of  them 
the  horizon  was  clear.  There  was  not  a  single  ship 
in  sight.  It  was  evident  that  Sir  Edward  and  his 
blockading  fleet  had  gone  away. 

"  What'll  you  do  now?  "  asked  Hatfield. 

"  Well,  we'll  run  in  a  little  farther,  I  think,"  con 
tinued  Grafton,  "  we  can  at  least  see  if  the  French 
are  still  in  port.  Perhaps  we  can  find  out  what  they 
are  about  to  do.  Then  we'll  bear  up  for  Torbay, 
try  to  overhaul  the  fleet,  and  deliver  these  de 
spatches  and  the  news." 

"  And  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan?  " 

"  As  to  her,  later,  I  am  afraid." 

"  You  won't  try  for  it  now,  then?  " 

"  I  think  not,  I  must  deliver  these  despatches 
first  of  all." 

"  You  have  not  given  up  the  idea,  though?  " 

"  I  never  give  up  anything,  Hatfield,"  answered 
Grafton  resolutely,  "  and  I'd  as  soon  give  up  life  as 
Anne  de  Rohan." 

222 


CHAPTER    XXII 

THE    BOAT    IN    THE    PASS 

IT  was  evening.  The  Maidstone  was  beating  to 
and  fro  off  the  mouth  of  the  harbour  of  Brest.  The 
wind  was  still  blowing  hard  on  shore  and  the  French 
ships  were  securely  bottled  up.  They  could  not 
beat  out  of  the  narrow  channel.  At  least  it  would 
be  a  dangerous  undertaking  and  the  game  would 
be  scarcely  worth  the  candle.  Therefore  the  Maid- 
stone,  although  her  approach  had  been  noticed  long 
since,  had  been  permitted  to  come  as  close  as  she 
dared  unhindered. 

The  position  of  the  English  frigate  was  some 
what  precarious  also.  On  a  lee-shore  in  a  half  a 
gale  of  wind,  in  unfrequented  and  most  dangerous 
waters,  only  consummate  seamanship  and  unremit 
ting  vigilance  could  save  her  from  disaster.  It  was 
there,  not  only  in  Grafton  himself,  but  in  his  dash 
ing  young  subordinate  as  well.  The  two,  by  care 
fully  watching  the  ship,  managed  to  keep  their  dis 
tance  safely  from  the  reefs  under  their  lee. 

From  the  foretop-mast  cross-trees  by  the  aid  of 
a  good  glass  Grafton  had  discovered  unmistakable 
signs  of  preparation  in  the  French  fleet  still  wind- 
bound  in  the  harbour.  Many  boats  were  passing 

223 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

between  the  ships  and  the  shore,  troops  were  being 
embarked,  and  provisions  and  supplies  taken  on 
board  the  huge  line-of-battle  ships  and  the  frigates. 
It  was  quite  evident  that  a  movement  of  some  sort 
was  in  contemplation;  and  it  was  more  than  prob 
able  that  as  soon  as  the  wind  served,  taking  advan 
tage  of  the  absence  of  the  blockaders,  the  French 
would  put  to  sea. 

That  was  news  of  the  highest  importance.  If 
they  could  learn  the  destination  of  the  fleet  there 
would  be  nothing  left  to  be  desired  except  an  oppor 
tunity  of  meeting  them;  an  opportunity  Hawke 
would  make  if  he  were  given  the  vestige  of  a 
chance. 

"  Hatfield,"  said  Grafton,  as  he  came  down 
from  the  cross-trees  for  the  last  time,  it  being  too 
dark  to  see  farther,  "  I  have  changed  my  mind.  I 
am  going  ashore  to  see  if  I  can  not  find  out  some 
thing  about  the  plans  of  the  French  fleet." 
"  And  you  want  me  to  go  with  you?  " 
"  No,  that  can  not  be.  You  must  look  after  the 
ship.  I  will  take  the  dinghy  and  one  man,  old  Jabez 
Slocum.  Now,  mark  me.  My  plan  is  to  land  at 
a  little  cove  I  know  of  under  the  lee  of  the  Chateau 
de  Josselin,  about  which  I  told  you.  I  shall  effect 
an  entrance  to  the  castle  immediately,  and  see  if 
there  is  anything  to  be  learned  there.  If  not,  I  will 
take  Jabez  and  we  will  sail  boldly  into  the  harbour 
and  find  out  what  we  can." 

"  And  you  will  see  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan?  " 

"  Perhaps.     I  hope  so,  though  that  is  not  my 

main  purpose.    At  least  I  would  go  even  if  I  knew 

224 


The  Boat  in  the  Pass 

she  were  not  there.  Now,  if  I  am  not  back  by  eight 
bells,  midnight,  you  will  brace  up  and  make  the 
best  of  your  way  to  Torbay  and  tell  Sir  Edward 
what  we  have  learned." 

"  Yes,  but  you  will  hardly  have  time  to  get 
there  and  back  by  midnight,  Captain  Grafton. 
Don't  you  think  it  would  be  better  to  make  it,  say, 
eight  bells  in  the  midwatch,  or  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning?  I'd  hate  mightily  to  run  away  and  leave 
you." 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Grafton,  "  that  will  give 
me  more  time,  and  perhaps  it  would  be  better  not 
to  leave  without  exhausting  every  possible  oppor 
tunity  of  getting  informatioii  as  to  the  destination 
of  the  French  fleet,  for  there  is  no  doubt  in  my 
mind  that  they  intend  to  move." 

"  Nor  in  mine." 

"  Very  well,  then,  we'll  make  it  eight  bells  in  the 
midwatch." 

"  And  if  you  are  not  back  then,  I'm  to 
make  the  best  of  my  way  to  Torbay,  or  Plymouth, 
or  wherever  I  can  find  Sir  Edward,  deliver  the 
despatches,  and  tell  what  we  have  seen?  " 

"  That's  it.  Now,  I  need  not  tell  you  to  watch 
the  ship  carefully  on  this  hard  lee-shore,  and  when 
you  start  for  Hawke,  if  I  am  not  here,  drive  her  for 
all  she  has  in  her." 

"  I  will  do  both,  Captain  Grafton." 

"  Of  course.  And  if  the  wind  should  change 
and  the  French  should  send  out  a  liner  or  a  couple 
of  frigates  after  you,  you  are  on  no  account  to  wait 
for  me  or  anybody.  The  information  we  have 

225 


The   guiberon  Touch 

gained  is  of  much  more  importance  than  a  half 
dozen  captured  frigates.  Remember  that  run 
ning,  not  fighting,  is  your  role.  Don't  hesitate  on 
my  account.  Don't  be  captured,  and  don't  be 
wrecked." 

"  Very  good,"  answered  Hatfield,  "  I  shall  carry 
out  your  instructions  to  the  letter.  But  I  wish  I 
could  go  with  you." 

"  I  wish  so,  too,  but  you  can't.  One  of  us  must 
stay  by  the  ship.  Remember  that  the  fate  of  Eng 
land  is  resting  on  your  shoulders,"  continued  the 
older  man  gravely,  "  for  'tis  perfectly  well  known 
if  the  French  get  away  from  Brest  successfully,  and 
are  not  beaten  elsewhere,  they  have  an  army  all 
ready  for  a  descent  upon  Ireland,  or  perhaps  Eng 
land  herself." 

"  I  shall  remember  it,"  answered  Hatfield  sol 
emnly. 

"  That's  well.  Now,  heave  to  and  have  the 
dinghy  dropped  overboard.  See  that  the  mast  is 
stepped  and  the  sail  is  close  reefed;  put  a  compass, 
a  beaker  of  water,  a  couple  of  muskets,  and  a  bag  of 
bread  in  her;  stow  away  forward  a  coil  of  signal 
halliards  and  a  stout  rope  with  a  grapnel  bent  on 
the  end  of  it — about  thirty  fathoms  of  each,  I  think 
— and  send  old  Jabez  to  me  in  my  cabin." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  replied  Hatfield,  calling  the  hands 
to  the  braces  as  Grafton  turned  to  the  companion- 
way  and  went  below,  whither  he  was  followed 
shortly  by  the  old  sailor  he  had  designated,  with 
whom  he  spent  a  few  moments  in  busy  preparation. 
Presently  the  ship  was  hove  to  and  the  dinghy 

226 


The  Boat  in  the  Pass 

dropped  alongside.  Grafton  and  Slocum  came  on 
deck.  Grafton  wore  his  uniform  and  both  men 
were  fully  armed  with  sword,  or  cutlass,  and  pis 
tols. 

"  You  are  surely  not  going  in  your  uniform?  " 
queried  Hatfield. 

"  Yes,  why  not?  I've  no  mind  to  hang  as  a  spy, 
and  if  I  am  captured  in  this  uniform  I'm  a  prisoner 
of  war  only.  Remember  my  instructions." 

"  I  shall  not  forget  them." 

"  Good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,  and  God  bless  you.  I  shall  be  in 
a  fever  of  anxiety  until  you  return,"  exclaimed  the 
lieutenant  as  they  parted. 

Waving  his  hand  Grafton  stepped  to  the  gang 
way  and  dropped  easily  down  the  battens  into  the 
boat,  whither  Slocum  had  preceded  him.  A  vigor 
ous  shove  sent  them  clear  of  the  frigate;  a  bit  of 
close-reefed  sail  was  hoisted  on  the  dinghy  and  she 
gathered  way  toward  the  distant  shore. 

It  was  a  wild  night.  The  wind  came  in  fierce 
squalls  and  gusts,  still  blowing  directly  on  land. 
The  sea  was  very  rough,  and  they  had  felt  it  severe 
ly  on  the  deck  of  the  large  ship,  but  in  the  little 
boat  the  pitching  was  simply  tremendous.  No  bet 
ter  seamen,  however,  ever  lived  than  the  two  who 
handled  her.  Old  Jabez  had  been  a  Gloucester 
fisherman  in  his  young  days  before  he  took  to 
man-o'-war  cruising,  and  he  was  actually  more  at 
home  in  a  small  boat  than  in  a  great  ship.  He 
steered  the  shallop  and  watched  her  going,  meeting 
every  wave  or  squall  with  a  nice  dexterity  that  filled 

227 


The   guiberon  Touch 

Grafton  with  admiration,  even  though  the  officer 
was  engrossed  in  thinking  over  and  planning  for 
his  night  adventure. 

After  two  hours  of  hard  running,  having  at  last 
come  well  within  the  harbour  mouth  and  reached 
a  point  opposite  the  old  chateau,  they  bore  up  and 
began  ratching  in  toward  the  shore.  It  seemed  to 
the  old  sailor  at  the  helm,  after  they  had  made  sev 
eral  short  tacks,  that  they  were  getting  perilously 
near  the  breakers.  As  he  peered  ahead  he  thought 
he  could  see  the  white  caps,  and  he  believed,  as 
he  turned  his  ear  up  to  windward,  that  he  could 
hear  the  roar  of  the  mighty  waves.  One  more 
tack  and  they  would  certainly  be  in  the  midst  of 
them. 

Grafton  had  ordered  him  to  throw  the  dinghy 
up  into  the  wind  and  check  her  way  while  he  in 
vestigated  the  situation.  He  had  gone  forward  and 
was  kneeling  down  by  the  mast  peering  ahead 
trying  to  get  his  bearings.  Finally,  having  satis 
fied  himself  as  well  as  he  could  in  the  darkness,  he 
called  out  a  command  to  the  sailor  at  the  tiller. 
Although  it  looked  like  certain  destruction,  old 
Jabez  was  too  thorough  a  seaman  to  hesitate  to 
obey,  and  when  Grafton  directed  him  to  put  the 
helm  over  he  let  her  go  off,  slipped  out  the  sheet, 
and  in  a  few  seconds  they  gathered  way  and  were 
rushing  straight  for  the  breakers. 

They  could  now  dimly  make  out  the  black 
mass  of  the  cliffs  before  them.  In  the  tower  of  the 
chateau  which  rose  above  them  were  two  lights. 
Grafton  sought  them  out  from  other  lights  in  other 

228 


The  Boat  in  the  Pass 

windows  in  the  castle.  He  was  sure  of  the  tower, 
for  he  thought  he  recognised  its  conical  top; 
though  the  darkness  was  so  deep,  there  were  signs 
of  a  break  in  the  clouds — in  fact,  they  had  broken 
over  the  tower.  Was  that  a  star  above  it  to  lead 
him  on? 

One  light  Graf  ton  surmised  came  from  the  oriel 
window  in  the  tower,  the  other  from  the  window 
of  the  room  adjacent  to  it.  By  what  happy  for 
tune  did  they  chance  to  be  lighted  that  night?  If 
he  were  right  in  his  opinion  he  knew  his  course  to 
the  mouth  of  the  passage  to  the  little  bay.  Once 
in  the  channel  leading  to  it,  he  would  have  to  trust 
to  instinct  to  feel  his  way  through. 

If  he  were  wrong  and  these  were  lights  from 
other  portions  of  the  castle — well,  God  help  them! 
He  had  studied  the  locality  carefully  and  his  re 
tentive  mind  had  preserved  a  vivid  and,  as  he 
trusted,  an  accurate  picture  of  it  during  all  these 
years.  It  was  useful  knowledge  and  he  had  treas 
ured  it.  In  daylight  he  could  have  made  the  diffi 
cult  pass  with  ease,  and  if  the  lights  there  were 
where  he  thought  them,  he  felt  that  he  could  find  it 
even  in  the  darkness  and  storm. 

"  Mind  your  steering,  now,  Slocum!  "  he  cried. 
"  Keep  your  weather  eye  lifting  and  obey  my  orders 
exactly!  Our  lives  depend  on  it.  Starboard  a  lit 
tle!  So!  I  think  we  can  win  through,  but  it's 
touch  and  go.  Steady!  Do  you  see  those  two 
lights?  " 

"  I  sees  'em,  sir." 

"  Keep  them  in  range  until  I  say  further. 
229 


The   guiberon  Touch 

Steady,  now!  Nothing  off,  for  God's  sake,  man! 
Hold  her  up  to  it!" 

The  boat  steered  with  an  uneasy  helm.  She 
had  a  tendency  to  fall  off,  to  go  to  leeward,  that 
is;  but  old  Jabez  set  his  teeth  hard,  contracted  his 
brows,  and,  peering  steadily  out  at  the  lights  high 
above  and  far  ahead  of  them,  kept  her  on  her 
course. 

They  were  nearing  the  shore  rapidly  now;  it 
looked  awfully  close.  The  cliffs  loomed  up  in 
front  of  them  grim  and  terrible.  There  was  no 
entrance  through  them,  no  rift  even,  no  way  that 
he  could  see.  Their  course  seemed  madness.  An 
other  moment  and  they  would  be  beaten  to  pieces. 
But  the  business  of  the  old  sailor  was  to  obey  or 
ders  and  steer  the  boat.  He  put  everything,  else 
out  of  his  heart  and  watched  and  listened,  all  his 
skill  and  training  and  discipline  at  his  own  com 
mand,  and  at  his  captain's  service. 

"Well  done!"  Grafton  called  back  to  him. 
"Now  let  her  go  off  a  little.  Easy,  now!  Very 
well,  dyce!  Port,  once  more.  So!  Port,  port 
again!  "  * 

"  Port  it  is,  sir!  "  cried  Jabez,  as  the  boat's 
head  fell  off  to  starboard  in  obedience  to  the  com 
mand. 

Then,  in  compliance  with  the  rapid  and  chang 
ing  directions  of  Grafton,  he  luffed  up  to  port  and 


*  He  probably  said  "Larboard"  instead  of  "  Port,"  but  for 
euphony,  and  a  better  understanding-  on  the  readers  part,  I  have 
ventured  to  use  the  modern  equivalent  of  the  old  phrase. 

230 


The  Boat  in  the  Pass 

then  again  swung  to  starboard;  twisting  about,  in 
obedience  to  Grafton's  instinctive  conning,  through 
the  narrow  pass  through  the  reefs. 

They  were  right  in  the  breakers  now.  The 
waves  were  hissing,  boiling,  and  roaring  around 
them  on  every  side.  The  sea  was  white  with  the 
surf.  The  old  man  thought  his  last  hour  had  come 
in  that  riven  sea;  the  rapid  succession  of  com 
mands  from  the  captain,  however,  left  him  no  time 
for  reflection;  the  boat  whirled  about,  darted  back 
and  forth,  swung  from  side  to  side  like  a  mad-wom 
an,  a  Bacchante,  under  their  skilful  handling.  She 
seemed  doomed  a  dozen  times,  and  that  she  was  not 
shattered  was  wonderful.  Suddenly,  right  in  front 
of  them  loomed  a  black  mass  of  rock. 

"  Luff!  "  roared  Grafton.     "  Luff  her  hard!  " 

The  little  boat  spun  around  once  more  like  a 
dancing  girl,  her  starboard  side  just  scraping  a 
jagged  reef.  The  sail  shivered  and  slatted  as  she 
came  leaping  up  into  the  wind,  and  then  bore  away 
on  the  other  tack. 

"  That  was  a  close  shave,"  screamed  Grafton, 
"  but  we're  all  right  yet.  Give  her  a  good  full  now. 
God!  But  it's  dark!  We've  lost  the  lights,  but  I 
think  we  can  feel  our  way.  Hard  over! "  he 
shrieked,  as  another  rock  rose  up  in  front  of 
them. 

As  they  cleared  the  rock,  they  suddenly  whirled 
about,  swept  through  a  narrow  opening,  and  found 
themselves  in  smooth  water.  The  cliffs  rose  high 
above  them  on  every  side.  The  wind,  though  they 
could  still  hear  it  roaring  faintly,  seemed  to  die 

231 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

away  suddenly.  The  change  from  the  wild  clamour 
of  the  pass  to  the  silence  and  stillness  in  the  bay 
was  startling.  The  dinghy  drifted  in  for  a  few  mo 
ments  and  then  slowly  came  to  a  standstill,  the 
water  lipping  along  her  keel.  The  men  sat  quiet, 
but  with  beating  hearts  and  panting  breaths  from 
their  labour  and  excitement,  until  they  had  recov 
ered  themselves  in  a  measure.  Far  above  them 
towered  the  massive  walls  of  the  chateau. 

"  We  are  in,"  said  Grafton  at  last,  a  note  of  tri 
umph  and  relief  thrilling  through  his  voice. 

He  clambered  aft  and  grasped  the  hand  of  the 
old  man. 

"  By  Heaven,  Jabez,  I  never  saw  such  steering! 
We  were  gone  a  dozen  times  but  for  you!  " 

"  'Twant  my  steerin',  yer  Honour,  s'much  as 
'twas  your  pilotin'  got  us  in,"  remarked  the  old 
sailor,  wiping  the  sweat  from  his  forehead  with  his 
other  hand.  "  'Twas  a  close  shave  all  the  way 
through.  Wot  next,  sir?  " 

"  Out  with  the  oars,  now,  and  let  us  row  to  the 
shore,"  he  said,  taking  the  tiller  while  Jabez  shipped 
the  oars.  "  Gently,  man!  "  he  added,  as  the  boat 
surged  rapidly  forward  under  the  old  sailor's  pow 
erful  strokes. 

Presently  her  prow  touched  a  little  stretch  of 
beach  a  few  feet  wide,  which  Philip  remembered  to 
have  seen  right  at  the  foot  of  the  place  where  he  de 
termined  to  make  the  attempt  to  descend  the  wall  of 
the  chateau. 

"  Now,  Slocum,"  he  said,  "  pass  me  that  coilvof 
signal  halliards." 

232 


The  Boat  in  the  Pass 

When  the  mass  of  light  but  strong  line  was 
handed  him  he  slipped  the  coil  around  his  neck. 

"  Ef  I  motight  make  so  bold,  yer  Honour,  wot 
are  ye  goin'  to  do?  "  asked  the  sailor. 

"  I  am  going  to  ascend  the  wall  of  the  castle 
yonder." 

"  Good  Lord!  "  ejaculated  the  old  man,  "  it  can't 
be  done.  Why,  'tis  a  regular  pressipyce!  I  c'n 
shin  up  any  r'yal  mast  that  ever  was  set,  but  that 
'ere " 

"  That'll  do,  Jabez.  I've  been  here  before  and 
I  know  it's  possible  to  scale  the  wall.  It  has  been 
done  before — by  a  lover." 

"  'Taint  fer  the  likes  o'  me  to  speak  to  you," 
said  the  old  seaman;  "  but  lovers  allus  was  fools, 
they  say,  w'ich  I  ain't  never  been  one,  an'  mebbe 
Providence  watches  over  'em  special  like,  but  as  fer 
sailors " 

"  I  am  a  lover,  too,  Jabez,  if  it  comes  to  that. 
'Tis  not  only  for  England  that  I  go  into  that  tower. 
Now,  we've  talked  enough.  I  am  going  to  climb 
to  that  window  from  which  the  light  is  coming. 
D'ye  see  it?  The  one  with  the  balcony.  Then  I 
am  going  to  drop  the  end  of  this  piece  of  signal 
halliards  down  to  you.  I  want  you  to  bend  on  the 
end  of  that  coil  of  rope  in  the  bow  to  it.  Be  sure 
to  make  it  fast  to  the  grapnel  end.  Then  I'll  haul 
it  up,  hook  it  to  the  balcony,  and  have  a  ladder  to 
come  down  again." 

"  Werry  good,  sir." 

"  Then  you  are  to  stay  in  the  boat  here  and 
keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  anything  and  everything. 
16  233 


The   guiberon  Touch 

Have  your  muskets  ready  for  use,  too.  You're  a 
good  shot,  aren't  you?  " 

"  I  used  to  be,  sir." 

"  I  remembered  it.  Now,  if  I  should  happen  to 
fall  you  are  to  pick  up  what's  left  of  me  and  take 
it  back  to  the  ship — if  you  can  get  back." 

"  An'  if  you  don't  come  down,  sir,  w'ich  God 
forbid " 

"  Wait  until  about  four  bells  in  the  midwatch 
for  me,  as  near  as  you  can  guess  the  time — here, 
take  my  watch  and  then  you  can  be  sure — and  then 
make  your  way  as  best  you  can  to  the  ship.  It  will 
be  easier  to  get  out  of  this  little  bay,  I  think,  than  it 
was  to  get  into  it,  especially  if  the  wind  shifts  off 
shore.  Keep  her  reefed  down  and  take  it  slowly; 
you  must  remember  something  of  the  pass  from 
our  coming  in." 

"  If  you  ain't  here  to  go  with  me,  cap'n,  I  don't 
care  w'ether  I  gits  out  alive  or  not.  I'll  jist  jam 
her  head  fer  the  openin'  an'  let  her  go.  Damme, 
beggin'  yer  parding,  sir,  I  wish  you'd  take  me  into 
that  'ere  tower,  too." 

"  I  would  rather  have  you  down  here,  Jabez. 
Good-bye;  remember  what  I  told  you,"  Grafton 
said,  extending  his  hand  to  his  faithful  if  humble 
companion. 

"  I  won't  forgit  none  of  it,  sir,"  answered  the 
old  man  in  a  melancholy  voice,  shaking  his  cap 
tain  by  the  hand. 


234 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

LIKE    A    BIRD    IN    THE    AIR 

GRAFTON  sprang  lightly  to  the  shore,  and  rind 
ing  a  suggestion  of  a  path  up  the  cliff,  clambered 
slowly  over  the  stones,  until  he  stood  on  the  narrow 
shelf  of  rock  at  the  foot  of  the  tower.  He  threw 
his  head  far  back  and  looked  up  along  its  slanting 
surface.  The  clouds  had  broken  now,  and  though 
the  sky  was  still  adrift  with  them  racing  before  the 
wind,  he  could  see,  around  the  black  edge  of  the 
crenellated  top,  a  star  or  two. 

As  he  gazed  upward  that  peculiar  optical  de 
lusion  which  seizes  people  who  look  up  at  the  sheer 
pitch  of  a  lofty  building  came  upon  him.  It  seemed 
to  him  as  though  the  castle  were  swaying  toward 
him;  as  though  in  another  moment  it  might  fall 
and  crush  him.  He  lost  all  sense  of  the  consider 
able  inclination  of  the  tower,  or  if  there  were  any 
variation  from  the  perpendicular;  it  seemed  to  him 
to  slope  back  over  his  head,  instead  of  away  from 
him.  It  was  an  appalling  sight.  He  stood  at  gaze 
a  second  or  two  with  his  heart  failing.  Then  he 
shook  his  head  and  looked  straight  before  him. 

"  This  will  never  do,"  he  murmured,  "  if  I  hesi 
tate  longer  I  shall  be  lost." 

235 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

He  leaned  his  forehead  against  the  wall  and 
closed  his  eyes,  breathing  a  prayer  at  the  same 
time,  and  having  recovered  his  calmness  thereby, 
he  slowly  and  cautiously  began  the  ascent.  He  put 
his  foot  on  the  first  projecting  stone  and  reached 
across  the  rough  surface  until  his  fingers  clutched 
another  jutting  block.  Then  he  swung  himself 
into  the  air. 

The  place  had  grown  strangely  still.  He  did 
not  hear  the  roar  of  the  breakers  outside,  and  the 
scream  of  the  wind  fell  unnoticed  upon  his  ear. 
Fortunately  he  was  sheltered  from  its  force  be 
cause  he  was  on  the  leeward  side  of  the  tower.  He 
could  never  have  managed  it  if  the  wind  had  blown 
upon  him.  Perhaps  that  accounted  for  the  strange 
absence  of  sound.  But  no,  something  else  filled 
the  fearful  hollow  of  his  ear  and  shut  out  other 
noises.  A  series  of  blows  like  a  hammer  seemed  to 
strike  him.  He  was  wonderingly  conscious  of  the 
beating  of  his  heart. 

He  looked  neither  up  nor  down,  nor  sidewise, 
but  stared  straight  at  the  wet  stones  in  front  of  him 
as  he  monotonously  plodded  up.  He  dared  not 
look  elsewhere,  in  fact.  He  found  the  angle  be 
tween  the  tower  and  the  wall  presently  and  with 
infinite  care  he  made  his  way  painfully  upward. 
Once  he  glanced  quickly  above  him.  The  goal  was 
miles  away,  yet  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  been  crawl 
ing  up  those  rocks  for  hours. 

Once  his  foot  slipped  on  a  round  damp  stone, 
and  it  was  only  by  a  superhuman  effort,  aided  by 
a  little  larger  projection  which  happened  to  be 

236 


Like  a  Bird  in  the  Air 

under  his  right  hand,  that  he  kept  himself  from 
falling.  But  presently,  as  he  fearfully  made  the 
slow  ascent,  his  courage  returned  to  him.  He 
forgot  the  danger  and  began  to  feel  himself  im 
mune  from  it.  England  and  her  service  came  back 
to  him,  Anne  sprang  into  his  mind.  She  was  there, 
perhaps,  behind  that  window,  from  which  the  light 
streamed  out  into  the  darkness,  waiting  for  him, 
dreaming  of  him;  he  should  see  her  in  a  moment. 

The  thought  lent  him  wings,  he  forgot  the  dizzy 
depths  below  him,  the  unsealed  heights  above  him, 
he  forgot  his  imminent  deadly  peril,  he  forgot  him 
self,  in  fact.  However,  he  relaxed  none  of  his  pre 
caution,  as  he  painfully  wormed  himself  up  the  face 
of  the  tower.  With  each  step  he  was  drawing 
nearer  to  Anne,  that  was  the  burden  of  his 
thoughts. 

Presently  his  head  struck  the  projection  at  the 
foot  of  the  balcony  surrounding  the  oriel  window. 
Here  was  the  most  difficult  part  of  the  ascent;  but 
he  was  full  of  confidence  now.  A  few  more  cau 
tious  efforts  and  his  hands  clasped  the  coping  of 
the  balcony.  Slowly,  painfully,  he  drew  himself  up, 
swung  his  feet  over  the  wall,  and  dropped  softly 
down  to  the  stone  floor. 

He  was  trembling  under  the  strain  he  had  un 
dergone;  and  until  that  moment  he  had  not  real 
ized  what  it  had  been;  cold  perspiration  had  broken 
out  on  his  forehead,  his  hands  were  bleeding,  but  he 
had  achieved  the  feat.  An  undertaking,  by  the  way, 
had  he  but  known  it,  which  the  unfortunate  Baron 
de  Croisic  had  only  compassed  because  he  had  been 

237 


The   guiberon  Touch 

aided  by  a  rope  dropped  by  the  hands  of  the  fair 
Jehane.  Grafton's  ascent,  therefore,  had  been  un 
paralleled. 

He  waited  a  few  moments  until  he  had  recov 
ered  himself,  and  then,  although  he  was  consumed 
by  an  eager  desire,  without  looking  at  the  shuttered 
window,  which  happened  to  have  the  curtains 
drawn  before  it  as  well,  he  rose  slowly  to  his  feet; 
he  took  the  coil  of  rope  from  his  neck,  dropped  it 
down  to  the  foot  of  the  tower,  waited  a  few  moments 
until  he  felt  a  slight  tug  upon  it,  and  then  hauled  up 
the  rope,  to  the  end  of  which  was  fastened  one  of 
the  heavy  grappling  irons,  or  grapnels,  from  the 
ship.  He  hooked  it  securely  over  the  coping, 
coiled  the  signal  halliards  up  at  his  feet  with  sailor- 
like  care,  and  thus  having  secured  his  retreat  turned 
toward  the  window. 

Barred  shutters  fastened  inside  prevented  him 
from  reaching  the  glass  of  the  window  or  the 
hangings  within.  He  could  see  nothing.  Here 
was  an  unforeseen  obstacle.  After  all  that  he 
had  gone  through  was  he  to  be  stopped  by  a 
shutter? 

He  stood  a  moment  thinking  deeply  and  yet 
seeing  no  way.  Suddenly  he  remembered  that 
there  were  other  windows  on  the  other  sides  of  the 
oriel.  He  stepped  quickly  around  to  the  other  face, 
and  by  happy  chance  found  one  open.  The  guiding 
light  had  come  from  it.  The  curtains  hanging  be 
fore  it  were  fluttering  in  the  air.  He  drew  them 
aside  a  little  and  cautiously  looked  in. 

The  room  presented  an  entirely  different  ap- 

238 


Like  a  Bird  in  the   Air 

pearance  from  his  remembrance  of  it  the  night  in 
which  he  had  held  Anne  in  his  arms  there.  Then 
it  had  been  bare,  unfurnished,  empty;  now,  thick 
luxurious  rugs  were  stretched  across  the  floor,  in 
viting  couches  and  chairs,  and  several  gilded  tables 
were  scattered  around  the  apartment.  Rich  hang 
ings  depended  from  the  wall.  On  one  table  by  a 
vase  of  roses  an  elaborate  candelabra  displayed 
many  lights.  A  spinet  stood  against  the  wall  of 
the  room,  a  piece  of  music  lying  upon  its  rack.  The 
whole  room  was  filled  with  signs  of  a  woman's  oc 
cupancy.  What  woman? 

There  was  a  shawl  over  a  chair,  a  shawl  he  had 
seen  Anne  wear;  a  work-basket  sat  upon  a  low 
table,  and  in  front  of  it  lay  a  careless  little  slipper. 
He  knew  its  jewelled  buckle.  He  longed  to  get  to  it. 
There  was  no  other  foot  in  France — in  the  world, 
even — for  that  dainty  slipper  but  hers,  he  thought 
fatuously.  In  an  instant  he  divined  that  Anne  had 
indeed  come  back  and  had  chosen  to  make  this 
room  her  boudoir.  His  heart  gave  a  great  leap  as 
he  thought  of  that  association  of  ideas  by  which  she 
had  been  led  to  establish  herself  in  this  spot  sacred 
to  both  of  them. 

He  would  see  her  in  a  moment  perhaps.  She 
might  be  in  the  adjoining  room  yonder.  His  heart 
beat  louder  than  it  had  on  the  tower  wall.  To 
enter  the  room  seemed  almost  a  sacrilege.  Still, 
there  was  no  other  way. 

Just  as  he  was  about  to  climb  over  the  sill  he 
heard  a  footstep  in  the  corridor  outside  the  room. 
For  an  instant  he  thought  it  might  be  hers,  but  a 

239 


The   guiberon  Touch 

second  thought  undeceived  him.  He  drew  back, 
let  the  curtain  fall,  and  waited  with  his  eye  com 
prehending  the  room  through  the  corner  of  the 
drapery.  The  door  opened,  the  hangings  before  it 
were  lifted,  and  the  sturdy  figure  of  Josette  ap 
peared  in  the  doorway. 

"Well!"  ejaculated  the  maid,  as  she  stepped 
into  the  room  and  stood  looking  about  her  with 
her  arms  akimbo,  "  that's  done,  at  any  rate.  Mon 
Dieu!  How  beautiful  Mademoiselle  Anne  looked 
to-night!  But  how  sad  her  heart!  '  Helas,  Jo 
sette,'  she  said,  as  I  was  dressing  her,  '  I  care  not 
how  beautiful  I  am  now/  And  yet  Monsieur  le 
Comte  is  a  gallant  gentleman,  noble  and  rich.  God 
send  me  such  a  lover  some  day.  Poor  Monsieur 
de  Vitre,  how  sad  he  looks,  too;  and  as  for  that 
English  knight,  Sir  Grafton — well,  'tis  he  that 
mademoiselle  loves;  yes,  for  him  she  breaks  her 
heart.  'Twas  for  him  she  always  looked  back,  back, 
back,  on  that  hateful  ship.  Me,  I  like  not  the  sea. 
I'm  glad  'tis  not  I  who  have  so  many  lovers.  One 
will  suit  me,  if  I  may  choose.  That  poor  English 
man.  Dame,  if  I  had  been  he  I  had  stolen  her 
away  willy-nilly.  She  would  have  forgiven  him, 
I  know;  love  like  hers  forgives  all.  But  now  she 
will  never  see  him  again " 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,  Josette,"  whispered 
Grafton  in  her  ear. 

Taking  advantage  of  a  moment  when  she  had 
turned  her  back  to  the  window,  he  had  slipped 
into  the  room  and  approached  her.  He  must  trust 
some  one,  and  who  better  than  the  girl  whom  he 

240 


Like  a  Bird  in  the  Air 

knew  to  be  devoted  to  her  mistress  and  not  un 
friendly  toward  him  either? 

She  promptly  opened  her  lips  to  scream,  an 
attempt  which  Grafton  frustrated  by  clapping  one 
hand  over  her  mouth  and  forcing  her  into  a  chair 
with  the  other,  sternly  bidding  her  be  quiet  as  he 
did  so. 

"  Is  it  a  spirit?  "  she  wailed.  "  Oh,  monsieur, 
for  the  love  of  Heaven " 

"Nonsense!"  softly  answered  Grafton,  "be 
silent!  Can't  you  see  and  feel  that  I  am 
alive?" 

"  But  we  left  you  in  Quebec,  ill,  wounded " 

"  Did  you  think  that  I  would  stay  there  forever? 
I  have  recovered,  as  you  see,  and  I  have  come 
for  mademoiselle.  Where  is  she?  Is  there  not 
some  place  where  we  can  talk?  Will  any  come 
here?  " 

"  No  one  will  come  here,  monsieur,  at  least  not 
now,  I  think.  I  alone  have  access  to  mademoi 
selle's  apartments." 

"  Where  is  she?  " 

"  At  dinner,  monsieur." 

"  Oh,  and  is  there  any  one  else  here?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  the  Marquis  de  Chabot  gives 
a  dinner  to  Monsieur  le  Marechal  de  Conflans  and 
the  officers  of  his  fleet  to  announce  the  betrothal 
of  his  grand-daughter  to " 

"  De  Vitre?  " 

"  No,  monsieur,  certainly  not.  He  is  much  too 
little  for  so  grand  a  lady  as  mademoiselle." 

"  To  whom,  then?  " 

241 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

"  To  his  old  friend,  Monsieur  de  Kersaint." 

"Good  Heaven!"  exclaimed  Grafton.  "The 
other  man!  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur." 

"  And  the  countess,  does  she  consent?  " 

"  Her  consent  was  not  asked,  monsieur.  The 
marquis  announced  it  when  they  arrived  three  days 
ago.  'Twas  settled  before  we  came." 

"And  de  Vitre?" 

"  He  is  in  agony,  monsieur.  Monsieur  le  Mar 
quis  laughed  at  her  when  she  tried  to  tell  him.  He 
said  it  was  nothing,  impossible,  preposterous.  Oh, 
you  should  see  that  poor  young  man,  his  heart  is 
breaking!  " 

"  I  care  nothing  for  his  heart,  Josette,  but  as 
to  mademoiselle?  " 

"  Her  heart  is  breaking  too,  and  she  says " 

The  maid  hesitated,  perhaps  fearing  she  was  be 
traying  her  mistress. 

"  Yes,  what  does  she  say?  "  he  questioned  her, 
bending  on  her  a  compelling  gaze. 

"  She  says  she  does  not  care  who  it  is,  since — 
so  long  as  it  is  not — you,  monsieur." 

"  O  Josette,  bless  you  for  those  words!  What 
does  Monsieur  de  Vitre  intend  to  do?  " 

"  I  know  not.  He  speaks  of  carrying  made 
moiselle  off,  but  she  will  not  hear  of  it.  He  ap 
pealed  to  her  plighted  word,  but  she  says  she  will 
approach  her  grandfather  in  time.  He  must  give 
her  time.  The  French  fleet  is  going  out  to  capture 
the  English,  they  say.  Monsieur  de  Kersaint  and 
Monsieur  de  Vitre  go  with  it.  Mademoiselle  says 

242 


Like  a  Bird  in  the  Air 

'  Who  knows?  ' — but  I  ought  not  to  tell  you  this, 
monsieur,  you  are  an  enemy." 

"  Not  your  enemy,  Josette,  nor  mademoi 
selle's." 

"  I  ought  to  give  monsieur  up  to  the  marquis," 
remarked  the  Breton  girl  doubtfully,  "  he  would 
never  forgive  me  if  he  knew." 

"  Do  you  serve  mademoiselle  or  the  marquis, 
Josette?  " 

"  Mademoiselle,"  exclaimed  the  maid  fervently. 

"  And  would  she  give  me  up,  think  you?  " 

"  No." 

"  She  loves  me?  " 

"  Ah,  monsieur!  "  cried  the  girl,  "  you  can  not 
know  how  she  feels.  If  monsieur  could  see  her 
with  her  pale  face  and  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears! 
If  monsieur  could  hear  her  murmuring  in  her  sleep 
his  name!  She  chose  this  tower  for  her  room 
because  the  window  looked  toward  Canada  where 
she  thought  monsieur  was.  Alas,  poor  made 
moiselle!  " 

"  When  will  she  come  back  here?  " 

"  After  the  dinner  is  served,  I  think,  when  the 
gentlemen  take  their  wine." 

"  Josette,  I  must  be  taken  where  I  can  see  them 
at  the  dinner." 

"  Tis  not  possible,  monsieur!  "  cried  the  girl. 

"It  must  be;  there  must  be  some  way,  some 
place  where  you  can  put  me!  I  'remember! 
Doesn't  the  armory  open  from  the  dining-room?  " 

"  Yes,  but " 

"  Take  me  there,  then." 

243 


The   guiberon  Touch 

"  But  your  uniform!  If  they  see  you  as  you  go 
through  the  hall?  " 

"  Bring  me  your  long  cloak,  Josette.  We  are 
about  the  same  height,  are  we  not?  Wrap  that 
around  me.  I  will  draw  the  hood  over  my  head. 
You  must  go  with  me.  Will  any  one  question 
you?  " 

"  No  one,  unless  we  meet  Jean-Renaud  or  the 
steward,  and  they  are  both  likely  to  be  in  the  din 
ing-room." 

"  We  will  have  to  chance  that,  then.  Come,  no 
more  objections!  Tis  for  the  Countess  Anne's 
sake.  I  must  see  her.  I  will  save  her.  Remember, 
if  you  betray  me,  you  break  your  mistress's  heart!  " 

"  Very  well,  monsieur,  remain  where  you  are," 
cried  the  girl,  convinced  at  last.  "  I  will  get  the 
cloak.  For  Heaven's  sake,  sir,  stay  quietly  in  the 
room  until  I  return." 

When  she  left  him  he  stooped  and  picked  up 
the  little  slipper  which  Anne  had  evidently  care 
lessly  left  there  when  she  went  in  to  her  dressing- 
room  to  make  her  toilet  for  the  dinner.  He 
gazed  at  it,  covered  it  with  kisses,  and  slipped  it 
hurriedly  into  the  breast  of  his  coat  as  Josette  re 
turned. 

As  he  had  said,  they  were  about  the  same 
height.  Her  cloak  fitted  him  perfectly.  She 
wrapped  it  around  him  and  it  completely  concealed 
him.  Laying  aside  his  cocked  hat  he  drew  the 
hood  over  his  head,  hiding  his  face,  and  then  the 
two  descended  the  stairs,  passing  one  or  two  serv 
ants  .who  looked  at  them  curiously.  Fortune  fa- 

244 


Like  a  Bird  in  the  Air 

voured  them.  Jean-Renaud  was  in  attendance 
upon  the  marquis,  the  steward  was  busy  supervis 
ing  the  service  of  the  dinner,  and  no  one  else  pre 
sumed  to  interrogate  so  important  a  person  as  the 
chatelaine's  confidential  maid  and  foster-sister. 
They  gained  the  armory  without  difficulty. 

There  Josette  left  him  after  exacting  a  whis 
pered  promise  from  him  not  to  leave  the  room 
until  she  came  for  him.  The  door  opening  into  the 
dining-room,  and  which  was  veiled  by  heavy  hang 
ings,  happened  to  be  ajar.  Through  the  opening 
between  the  curtains  Grafton  had  a  clear  view  of 
the  apartment  beyond. 


245 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

NUMBERED WEIGHED DIVIDED 

THE  great  Gothic  apartment  was  ablaze  with 
light  from  hundreds  of  wax  candles  in  sconces  set 
between  the  banners  on  the  wall,  or  in  the  massive 
candelabra  standing  upon  the  long  table  which  was 
glistening  with  a  gorgeous  service  of  rare  and  mas 
sive  plate.  Ancient  flagons  of  curious  shapes  from 
Flanders,  cups  from  Italy  that  Cellini  might  have 
chased,  exquisite  dishes  of  the  finest  Sevres  pate 
tfiidre,  the  royal  porcelain  of  France,  first  coming 
into  use  at  that  time — Madame  de  Pompadour's 
one  good  gift  to  humanity — were  ranged  upon  the 
board.  Wine  of  the  rarest  vintage,  fabulously  old 
and  each  drop  priceless,  sparkled  in  the  tall  crystal 
goblets  which  some  roving  ancestor  had  brought 
from  Venice.  The  damask  linen  cloth  was  strewn 
with  strange  and  beautiful  orchids  from  the  match 
less  conservatories  of  the  chateau,  their  odd  shapes 
and  lavender  hues  vividly  outlined  against  the 
snowy  napery. 

Servants  in  the  gorgeous  mediaeval  livery  of  the 
de  Rohans  flitted  noiselessly  about  serving  the 
numerous  guests.  Musicians  from  one  of  the  ships 
in  the  harbour  discoursed  sweet  melodies  in  an 

246 


Numbered — Weighed — Divided 

adjoining  chamber.  In  short,  nothing  had  been 
left  undone  to  give  honour  and  magnificence  to  the 
feast.  The  resources  of  the  chateau  had  been  lav 
ishly  displayed,  and  Versailles  itself  could  scarcely 
have  afforded  a  more  splendid  showing  of  luxuri 
ous  elegance  and  wealth. 

Around  the  board  were  grouped  men  bearing 
the  names  of  some  of  the  noblest  families  in 
France.  At  the  head,  of  course,  sat  the  Marquis 
de  Chabot-Rohan  himself,  old  Jean-Renaud  stand 
ing  erect  behind  his  chair.  On  his  right,  in  the  seat 
of  honour,  was  placed  Admiral  de  Conflans,  who, 
in  addition  to  his  exalted  naval  rank,  was  also  a 
marshal  of  France.  Next  to  the  marshal-admiral 
was  placed  the  venerable  and  princely  Archbishop  of 
Vannes.  Below  him  sat  his  Highness  the  Prince 
de  Beauffremont-Listenois,  the  vice-admiral  of  the 
fleet — unfortunately  not  destined  to  add  to  his  re 
nown  in  the  coming  campaign. 

After  these  in  order  of  rank  were  ranged  the 
chief  officers  and  captains  of  the  van  division  of  the 
great  French  Armada.  Among  them,  near  the  foot 
of  the  table,  sat  Denis  de  Vitre.  He  had  been  duly 
exchanged  since  his  arrival  and  promoted  to  the 
rank  of  capitaine-de-fregate,  and  recently  appoint 
ed  executive  officer  of  Le  Thesee,  still  under  the 
command  of  the  Comte  de  Kersaint  de  Kerguelen. 

Grafton's  glance  took  in  this  line  with  one  quick 
survey,  and  then  turned  to  the  other  side  of  the 
table.  His  gaze  swept  past  the  marquis  and  rested 
upon  the  person  who  sat  at  his  left  hand.  This 
place  was  occupied  by  the  grand-daughter  of  the 

247 


The   guiberon  Touch 

house.  He  looked  at  her  for  a  second,  then  closed 
his  eyes  as  if  the  sight  had  dazzled  him.  Never 
had  he  seen  her  so  beautiful,  never  had  she  pre 
sented  so  splendid  and  glorious  a  picture.  Not  in 
his  most  rapturous  lover's  dream  had  he  imagined 
this. 

She  wore  a  dress  of  pale  violet  satin,  with  pip 
ings  of  white  and  lacings  of  silver  over  the  pointed 
bodice.  It  was  cut  low,  of  course,  after  the  fashion 
of  the  day,  and  afforded  a  full  view  of  her  dazzling 
neck  and  shoulders.  The  gaze  of  other  men  upon 
them  seemed  to  Grafton  a  profanation. 

She  was  a  perfect  blaze  of  diamonds.  The  jew 
els  of  centuries,  known  and  storied  in  the  de  Rohan 
traditions,  had  been  wrought  by  cunning  artificers 
into  rare  and  beautiful  forms  to  present  a  fit  setting 
for  her  radiant  beauty.  A  coronet  of  gems  flashed 
in  the  mazes  of  her  powdered  hair.  Diamond  stars 
caught  the  bertha  of  matchless  point  lace  which  fell 
low  over  her  corsage;  diamond  clusters  fastened  the 
little  white  plume  that  curled  backward,  like  a  sun 
beam  in  a  twilight,  over  her  hair,  rising  softly  from 
her  sweet  brow  in  the  fashion  of  the  time. 

Low  at  her  corsage  she  wore  a  bunch  of  price 
less  orchids  whose  purple  and  violet  hues  shot  with  > 
touches  of  gold  blended  so  exquisitely  with  the  fab 
ric  of  her  gown. 

The  men  about  that  table  were  dressed  with  the 
magnificence  and  splendour  characteristic  of  that 
age  of  display;  the  scarlet  and  blue  of  the  navy, 
the  white  and  gold  of  the  army,  the  green  of  the 
marine  corps,  the  royal  purple  of  the  bishop's  vest- 

248 


Numbered — Weighed — Divided 

ments,  the  yellow  and  silver  of  the  waiting  attend 
ants,  blended  and  harmonized  in  one  vivid  kaleido 
scopic  mass  of  shifting  hues.  The  soft  light  spark 
led  on  many  a  diamond  star  and  was  reflected  from 
many  a  jewelled  order  on  manly  breasts;  but  the 
glory  of  the  Countess  Anne  was  undimmed  by  the 
contrast;  in  this  galaxy  of  colour  she  was  like  the 
sun  amid  the  stars. 

Grafton  had  eyes  for  no  one  but  her.  He  had 
known  that  she  was  beautiful  even  in  the  simplicity 
in  which  she  had  always  been  robed  when  he  had 
seen  her.  He  had  known  that  she  was  the  fairest  of 
women,  to  him  at  any  rate,  but  he  never  realized  un 
til  now  how  magnificently  royal  she  was  in  her  rare 
and  exquisite  loveliness.  His  heart  sank  as  he 
looked  at  her.  She  was  one  in  a  world.  Surely  this 
treasure  in  which  Nature  summed  up  the  achieve 
ments  of  the  past  and  anticipated  the  possibilities  of 
the  future  could  not  be  for  him!  But  if  not  for 
him,  for  no  one,  he  swore.  Yet  he  felt  an  intense 
sympathy  for  poor  de  Vitre,  sitting  haggard  at  the 
foot  of  the  table,  eating  nothing,  moodily  draining 
his  glass  and  staring  at  Anne.  She  was  as  far  from 
him  as  heaven. 

Next  to  Anne,  with  the  permission  of  the  guests 
on  account  of  the  nature  of  the  occasion,  the  mar 
quis  had  placed  the  Comte  de  Kersaint,  whose  naval 
rank  would  not  have  entitled  him  to  so  high  a  seat 
at  the  table.  Next  to  de  Kersaint  sat  the  gallant 
rear-admiral,  St.  Andre  du  Verger,  soon  to  die  and 
win  an  immortal  name  for  his  heroism  in  the  ap 
proaching  battle.  By  his  side  was  placed  Monsieur 
17  249 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

de  Bompart,  chef-d'Escadre,  or  commodore,  com 
manding  a  division  of  six  ships  of  the  line  which  had 
recently  entered  the  harbour,  aided  by  the  unfortu 
nate  gale  which  had  compelled  Hawke  to  break  the 
blockade  for  the  time  being — a  welcome  re-enforce 
ment  indeed  for  de  Conflans. 

As  Grafton's  glance  finally  turned  to  de  Ker- 
saint,  his  latest  rival,  he  was  forced  to  admit  that  he 
was  no  unworthy  competitor  for  Anne's  hand.  Not 
without  a  certain  stateliness  and  dignity  was  the 
bold  figure  of  this  superb  sailor.  Of  splendid  physi 
cal  proportions,  indicating  great  strength,  with  in 
domitable  courage  written  on  his  brow,  with  rank 
and  station  apparent  in  his  simple  yet  easy  bearing, 
and  with  a  slight  bluff  bonhomie  added;  in  spite  of 
his  years,  he  might  well  hope  to  win  a  woman's 
heart. 

De  Kersaint's  family  was  among  the  oldest  in 
Brittany,  his  means  ample,  he  might  fairly  be 
termed  wealthy,  in  fact;  and  he  stood  so  high  in 
the  favour  of  the  King  that  in  all  probability,  if  he 
lived,  he  would  finally  be  made  the  admiral  of 
France,  an  office  of  the  greatest  consequence. 
Long  since  he  had  become  one  of  the  most  distin 
guished  officers  in  the  French  navy.  He  was  an 
adversary,  in  love  or  war,  the  most  formidable,  and 
not  to  be  despised. 

He  had  only  aspired  of  late  to  the  hand  of  the 
charming  girl  who  had  so  confidently  liked  and  ad 
mired  him  as  her  father's  friend  when  she  had  been 
a  child;  but  if  Grafton  could  judge  from  the  way 
he  looked  at  her,  he  made  up  for  his  tardiness  by 

250 


Numbered — Weighed — Divided 

his  ardour  in  the  end.  He  was  a  widower  of  many 
years'  standing,  and  his  son  had  already  made  a 
name  for  himself  in  the  service.  He  had  no  other 
children.  The  marquis  had  gladly  welcomed  the 
alliance  offered  him,  and  the  two  men  had  settled  it 
together  before  Anne  had  appeared  upon  the  scene. 

The  feast  of  the  evening  had  been  made  to  an 
nounce  formally  the  engagement  of  Anne  to  de 
Kersaint.  The  countess  had  protested,  and  had 
again  directly  broached  to  her  grandfather  the  sub 
ject  of  her  plighted  troth  to  de  Vitre.  The  mar 
quis  had  refused  to  hear  her;  as  before,  had  pooh- 
poohed  the  whole  affair  as  a  girlish  flirtation.  What 
had  maidens  to  do  with  hearts?  he  questioned. 
Those  were  luxuries  reserved  for  married  women. 
In  the  ethics  of  France  in  that  day  a  maiden's  duty 
was  obedience.  As  for  de  Vitre,  he  was  a  cadet  of 
an  obscure  house,  no  match  for  the  last  and  most 
beautiful  of  the  de  Rohans.  She  surely  was  not  in 
earnest! 

Her  grandfather's  refusal  would  indeed  relieve 
her  honourably  of  the  attentions  of  de  Vitre,  since 
she  had  expressly  stipulated  for  his  consent.  But 
between  de  Vitre  and  de  Kersaint  she  preferred  the 
former,  or,  to  speak  by  the  card,  she  preferred  nei 
ther.  She  wanted  Grafton,  and  Grafton  only.  She 
was  in  as  great  unhappiness  therefore  in  this  new 
development  as  before.  Unable,  or  unwilling,  at 
that  time,  to  break  into  open  rebellion,  especially 
now  that  she  was  separated  apparently  irrevocably 
from  Grafton,  Anne  deemed  it  well  to  temporize. 
In  spite  of  her  flight,  her  renunciation  of  him,  she 

251 


The  guiberon  Touch 

'"was  waiting  and  hoping  to  hear  from  the  man  she 
loved.  She  had  only  stipulated,  therefore,  that 
there  was  to  be  no  formal  betrothal,  and  that  her 
grandfather  should  confine  himself  to  the  simple 
announcement  at  the  feast  that  it  was  in  contem 
plation. 

Like  Grafton,  she  was  fighting  for  time.  In 
deed,  in  the  engagement  to  de  Kersaint  she  really- 
thought  there  was  a  loophole  for  an  escape  before 
her.  Between  de  Kersaint  and  de  Vitre  what  might 
not  happen?  She  was  fully  resolved  never  to  marry 
de  Kersaint,  and  her  resolution  with  regard  to  de 
Vitre  was  not  so  strong  as  it  had  been.  Absence, 
separation,  both  pleaded  powerfully  for  Grafton. 
So  she  waited — and  hoped  still. 

As  for  de  Vitre,  he  had  been  cordially  welcomed 
in  France  and  had  been  promptly  promoted  when 
the  story  of  his  heroism  had  been  made  known;  but 
his  shrift  would  have  been  short  indeed  if  he  had  pre 
sumed  to  cross  the  path  of  the  marquis,  whose  influ 
ence  with  de  Conflans  was  unbounded.  It  was  well 
known  that  the  French  intended  to  get  to  sea  at 
once.  Opportunities  for  distinction  would  certainly 
occur.  He  could  not  afford  to  jeopardize  his  chance 
for  service.  Therefore,  he  was  forced  to  endure  the 
situation  in  silence.  Yet  it  is  possible  that  none  of 
these  considerations  would  have  weighed  with  him 
had  not  the  course  which  he  pursued  been  enjoined 
upon  him  by  Anne  herself,  under  threat  of  immedi 
ate  and  final  rejection.  He,  too,  therefore  waited 
and  hoped. 

The  face  of  de  Kersaint,  as  Grafton  surveyed 
252 


Numbered — Weighed — Divided 

it,  was  filled  with  joy  and  good-humour.  The 
Frenchman  noted  with  evident  satisfaction  the 
glances  of  admiration  and  envy  which  were  cast  at 
his  end  of  the  table,  and  it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that 
he  was  entirely  satisfied  with  the  situation,  and  the 
complacence  of  the  old  marquis  was  equally  appar 
ent.  The  engagement  had  not  been  formally  an 
nounced,  but  every  one  was  practically  aware  of  it. 

Laughter,  jollity,  merriment,  subdued  by  the  re 
finements  and  requirements  of  good  breeding, 
floated  around  the  table.  Joy  and  good-humour 
were  reflected  from  every  face  except  two.  Hearts 
beat  high  in  anticipation.  The  officers  of  the  squad 
ron,  who  had  not  yet  received  orders  for  the  depar 
ture,  felt  that  it  was  in  the  wind  and  eagerly  antici 
pated  it. 

Tired  of  the  long  days  of  inaction  while  block 
aded  by  Hawke,  they  longed  to  get  to  sea;  the  re- 
enforcement  which  Commodore  de  Bompart  had 
been  luckily  enabled  to  bring  them  made  them  equal 
in  strength  to  their  haughty  enemies,  and  they  were 
fain  to  get  at  them.  With  sailors'  abhorrence  of 
land,  they  thirsted  for  blue  water  and  the  open 
sea,  the  heave  of  the  unquiet  deck,  the  sing  of  the 
wind  through  the  cordage,  when  the  ship  tossed 
and  pitched  on  the  waves  in  the  salt  air.  They  were 
going  out,  they  felt  sure,  and  they  waited  expec 
tantly  for  the  word. 

Grafton,  who  had  ample  time  to  study  the  peo 
ple  in  the  dining-room  as  the  banquet  progressed, 
marked  with  a  thrill  of  happiness  that  the  universal 
joy  was  not  reflected  in  the  face  of  his  love.  Never 

253 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

had  he  seen  it  colder,  paler,  more  filled  with  that 
ineffable  disdain  he  loved  to  note  when  not  meant 
for  him.  There  was  not  the  slightest  touch  of  mirth 
and  happiness  in  her  features  as  her  eyes  restlessly 
swept  the  table.  When  her  glance  fell  upon  the 
huge  and  happy  Frenchman  who  sat  next  her, 
Grafton  noticed  that  she  seemed  to  shrink  from  him. 
None  but  a  lover's  eye  could  have  detected  the 
movement,  but  to  him  it  was  plain. 

He  stared  steadily  at  her  through  the  little  open 
ing  in  the  curtain  until  she  became  restless  under 
his  intent  look.  Her  eyes  wavered,  and  finally  be 
came  fixed  upon  the  hangings  behind  which  he 
stood,  with  a  look  as  if  they  might  have  burned 
through  them.  Her  lips  parted  slightly.  He  could 
see  the  more  rapid  rise  and  fall  of  her  breast  as  she 
leaned  forward.  He  could  almost  swear  that  she 
saw  him. 

Indeed,  an  influence  which  she  could  feel  but 
not  recognise  drew  her  eyes  toward  his  own.  She 
could  not  see  him,  she  did  not  dream  he  was  there, 
but  some  impelling  force  caused  her  heart  to  beat 
madly.  De  Kersaint  spoke  to  her,  but  she  took  no 
notice.  The  marquis,  noting  her  abstraction, 
turned  in  surprise,  and  then  quietly  laid  his  hand 
upon  her  jeweled  fingers  stretched  listlessly  upon 
the  table.  She  seemed  to  wake  with  a  painful  start, 
passed  her  hand  over  her  brow,  and  looked  at  him. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  marquis  at  last,  the  re 
past  having  been  concluded  by  this  time,  "  before 
the  Countess  Anne  retires  I  wish  you  to  drink  a 
health  with  me." 

254 


Numbered — Weighed — Divided 

"  A  health!  A  health!  "  cried  the  men,  thrusting 
their  chairs  back  from  the  table,  seizing  their  full 
glasses,  and  rising  to  their  feet  as  they  spoke. 

"  Messieurs,"  cried  the  old  man  in  his  high- 
pitched  old  voice,  "  I  give  you  the  health  of  the 
Demoiselle  de  Rohan  and  the  Comte  de  Kersaint, 
and  I  announce  to  you  the  engagement  which  has 
been  entered  upon  between  this  son  and  daughter  of 
Brittany,  to  carry  on  and  perpetuate  the  two  ancient 
races." 

This  was  death  and  agony  to  Grafton.  It  was 
only  by  the  strongest  constraint  that  he  could  keep 
himself  from  bursting  into  the  room. 

"Vive  la  Demoiselle  de  Rohan!" 

"  Vive  de  Kersaint!" 

"  Long  life  and  happiness  to  the  pride  of  Brit 
tany!  "  resounded  through  the  hall  as  the  men  drank 
the  toast  with  enthusiasm. 

"  Shiver  your  glasses,  gentlemen,  when  you 
drink  to  the  Demoiselle  de  Rohan!  "  cried  the  mar 
quis  when  he  had  drained  his  own,  at  the  same  time 
dashing  his  priceless  cup  to  the  floor. 

Amid  the  crashing  of  the  crystal,  therefore, 
Anne,  pale  as  a  ghost,  the  image  of  everything 
but  joy,  rose  to  her  feet  and  lifted  her  own 
glass. 

"  Messieurs,"  she  said  softly,  "  I  drink  to  you 
and  to  France."  She  bowed  low  before  them  amid  a 
murmur  of  admiration  evoked  by  her  grace  and 
beauty,  and  continued :  "  And  I  thank  you.  And 
now,  with  your  permission,  Monsieur  le  Marquis 
and  gentlemen  all,  I  will  withdraw.  Resume  your 

255 


The  guiberon  Touch 

seats,  messieurs.  I  thank  you  again  for  your  con 
gratulations." 

The  marquis  handed  her  to  the  door.  Grafton 
noticed  that  she  tottered  as  she  withdrew.  The 
scene  had  been  too  much  for  her.  He  had  shot  one 
swift  glance  toward  the  foot  of  the  table,  too,  and  he 
had  noticed  that  one  glass  had  not  been  lifted  when 
the  toast  had  been  drunk,  and  that  it  still  stood  brim 
ming  with  wine  upon  the  board  in  front  of  the  hag 
gard  de  Vitre.  The  American  pitied  him,  his  mis 
ery  was  so  great  and  so  apparent.  Meanwhile  con 
gratulations  from  all  sides  were  bestowed  upon  de 
Kersaint.  The  men  crowded  around  him,  shak 
ing  him  by  the  hand,  drinking  healths  to  him  from 
fresh  glasses  which  had  been  brought,  and  over 
whelming  him  with  acclamations  which  he  bore 
with  good-humoured  modesty. 

Grafton  would  have  left  the  armory  at  once  to 
follow  Anne  had  he  not  faithfully  promised  Josette 
to  stay  there  until  she  summoned  him.  He  waited, 
therefore,  in  increasing  impatience.  He  was  glad, 
however,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  passion,  that  he 
had  remained,  when  he  heard  Admiral  de  Conflans 
tapping  the  table  and  requesting  silence. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  as  the  tumult  died  away 
and  the  men  subsided  into  their  seats  once  more, 
"  with  the  permission  of  my  friend,  the  Marquis  de 
Chabot-Rohan,  I  will  propose  a  toast  to  you,  and 
at  the  same  time  make  an  announcement.  The 
English  have  been  driven  from  the  blockade  by  the 
fierce  gales  and  I  intend  to  go  to  sea.  Amid  such 
loyal  friends  and  supporters  I  do  not  hesitate  to 

256 


Numbered — Weighed — Divided 

say  that  we  are  bound  for  the  enemy's  country.  I 
first  propose  to  take  the  English  squadron  in  Qui- 
beron  Bay,  to  embark  there  the  officers  and  men  of 
the  brave  army  commanded  by  Monsieur  le  Due 
d'Aiguillon  and  Marechal  Belloc,  and  then  away  for 
Ireland,  crushing  any  one  who  may  endeavour  to 
stay  our  progress;  and  if  that  be  Admiral  Hawke, 
let  him  look  to  his  ships!  " 

The  hall  was  filled  with  shouts  of  approval  and 
joyful  acclamations. 

"  A  moment,  gentlemen,"  continued  the  old  ad 
miral,  smiling  his  approbation  of  the  enthusiasm  of 
his  subordinates  and  making  a  fine  figure,  with  his 
powdered  head,  weather-beaten,  haughty  old  face, 
his  rich  uniform  heavy  with  gold  lacing,  and  his 
breast  covered  with  orders — "  a  moment,  while  I 
give  you  the  toast.  Fill  your  glasses  all  and  drink 
deep  with  me:  Death  to  the  enemies  of  the  King, 
confusion  to  the  English,  success  to  our  endeavour! 
Vive  la  France!  " 

A  perfect  roar  of  applause  and  acquiescence 
swept  through  the  room.  Men  sprang  upon  the 
chairs  crying  and  cheering,  some  tore  down  the  ban 
ners  and  flags  from  the  walls,  waving  them  fran 
tically,  and  shouting  themselves  hoarse  in  their  ex 
citement.  They  would  shout  another  way,  sing  an 
other  tune  once  the  grim  English  Hawke  got  his 
talons  in  them,  thought  Grafton — still,  'twas  a 
pretty  sight.  He  alone  seemed  to  read  an  old  sen 
tence  on  the  wall. 

"  When  do  you  sail,  Monsieur  de  Conflans?  " 
asked  the  archbishop,  when  he  could  be  heard  above 

257 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

the  tumult.  There  was  an  instant  silence  as  they  all 
waited  in  tense  excitement  to  receive  the  reply. 

"  Monseigneur,"  answered  the  old  admiral,  in 
clining  his  head  toward  the  prelate,  "  I  beg  you  to 
invoke  a  blessing  upon  our  undertaking.  Silence, 
gentlemen!  " 

The  officers  stood  with  bowed  heads  while  the 
venerable  archbishop,  rising  and  lifting  a  white  hand 
in  the  air,  breathed  forth  an  eloquent  prayer  for  the 
success  of  their  arms.  The  amens  with  which  the 
guests  ratified  his  passionate  petition  were  not  less 
deep  and  fervent  than  had  been  their  cries  a  moment 
since. 

"  Most  Reverend  Father,"  returned  the  admi 
ral,  as  the  prayer  was  concluded,  "  as  to  the  time 
of  sailing?  As  soon  as  the  wind  changes,  mon- 
seigneur,  and  lets  us  get  away  from  the  harbour." 

There  was  a  sudden  clashing  of  arms  on  the 
stair.  A  young  soldier,  an  officer  of  cavalry,  strode 
into  the  room  through  the  open  door.  He  stopped 
before  the  admiral,  clicked  his  heels  together  with 
military  precision,  and  saluted. 

"  Monsieur  le  Marechal,"  *  he  said,  "  I  have  a 
message  to  you  from  the  port  admiral." 

"  What  is  it,  sir?  " 

"  He  bade  me  tell  you  that  the  wind  had 
changed  within  the  hour  and  'tis  now  blowing  fair 
for  you  to  leave  the  harbour." 

"  Gentlemen,"  cried  the  admiral,  "  we  sail  at  six 
in  the  morning.  We  have  much  to  do.  Monsieur 

*  Admiral  de  Conflans  was  also  a  marshal  of  France. 
258 


Numbered — Weighed — Divided 

le  Marquis,  you  will  pardon  us  if  we  withdraw  thus 
early?  Come,  come,  messieurs,  the  toasting  and 
feasting  are  over,  the  time  of  war  begins." 

Grafton  felt  a  touch  on  his  arm.  The  anxious 
face  of  Josette  loomed  up  out  of  the  darkness  near 
his  shoulder. 

"  Come  with  me,"  she  whispered  softly. 

As  he  turned  to  go,  he  heard  the  admiral  say  to 
de  Kersaint: 

"  Monsieur,  you  may  remain  here  an  hour 
or  two  longer.  Your  ship,  I  know,  is  in  readi 
ness  to  weigh  anchor,  and  so  long  as  you  are  aboard 
at  the  appointed  time  I  shall  be  satisfied.  I  am  loath 
to  part  you  from  so  charming  a  fiancee  in  so  uncere 
monious  a  way.  Yes,"  he  continued,  in  answer  to 
a  question,  "  you  may  retain  Captain  de  Vitre." 

Grafton  drew  the  hood  over  his  head  once  more, 
and  wrapping  the  cloak  closely  about  him  turned 
and  followed  the  nervous  Josette,  as  she  stepped 
rapidly  through  the  hall  and  up  the  stair.  The  cor 
ridors  were  filled  with  gentlemen  and  servants,  and 
though  one  or  two  cast  glances  of  curiosity  and 
suspicion  at  the  maid  and  her  companion,  they  were 
neither  accosted  nor  detained.  Just  as  they  entered 
upon  the  stair  the  steward  came  into  the  corridor 
and  gazed  earnestly  at  them. 

As  Grafton  found  himself  mounting  the  tower 
stair  he  discovered  his  heart  beating  almost  to  suffo 
cation.  He  was  to  see  Anne,  to  speak  to  her  again, 
perhaps  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  to  kiss  her  once 
more.  He  forgot  his  frigate  outside,  he  forgot  the 
French  fleet,  his  duty,  everything,  for  the  moment, 

259 


The  guiberon  Touch 

i 

but  his  love.  How  would  she  greet  him?  He 
would  soon  know.  They  were  approaching  her 
door. 

"  Have  you  told  her  that  I  am  here?  "  he  asked 
Josette. 

"  No,  monsieur." 

"  That's  well." 

"  Shall  I  announce  you  now?  " 

"  By  no  means.  Do  you  stand  by  the  door  here 
and  give  me  warning  of  any  approach." 

'''  You  would  not  harm  the  Countess  Anne, 
monsieur?  "  she  asked,  laying  her  hand  upon  his 
arm  and  looking  at  him  beseechingly.  "  You  will 
remember  that  she  is  but  a  woman  who — loves 
you?" 

"  I  love  her  too,  Josette.  I  swear  to  you  I 
would  rather  die  than  harm  should  come  to  her. 
Rest  easy.  And  enter  without  hesitation  should  I 
be  in  danger  of  discovery.  Is  this  the  door?  " 

She  nodded  her  head.  He  pressed  her  hand 
softly,  opened  the  door,  parted  the  curtains,  and 
entered  the  room. 


260 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THREE  LOVERS  COME  TO  THE  TOWER 

THE  Countess  Anne  was  seated  in  a  chair  at  a 
table  at  the  other  side  of  the  room  within  the  oriel 
window.  She  was  dressed  just  as  she  had  been 
when  she  left  the  dining-room  a  few  moments  be 
fore.  She  sat  with  her  back  toward  him  and  with 
her  face  buried  in  her  hands.  He  could  see  by  the 
trembling  of  her  shoulders  that  she  was  weeping. 
He  had  made  no  sound  as  he  entered  and  she  did 
not  look  up.  He  stood  for  an  instant  watching 
her,  his  heart  in  his  gaze.  Time  meant  liberty — 
nay,  life — to  him,  yet  if  the  sword  had  been  at  his 
throat  he  could  not  have  refrained  from  that  mo 
ment  of  contemplation. 

How  exquisite  was  her  beauty,  that  wandering 
lock  of  hair  curling  so  tenderly  about  her  neck! 
How  he  longed  to  kiss  it!  He  moved  a  step  nearer 
to  her,  involuntarily  stretching  out  his  hands  toward 
her.  At  the  same  moment  she  lifted  her  head  and 
looked  out  into  the  night  through  the  window  in 
the  direction  of  Canada. 

"Philip,  Sir  Philip!"  she  whispered  pitifully. 
"So  far  away!" 

He  took  a  step  nearer.  It  was  painfully  still 
261 


The  guiberon  Touch 

within  the  room.  Perhaps  she  heard  the  beating  of 
his  heart,  for  she  slowly  turned  her  head  and  stared 
at  him.  He  stood  before  her  eyes  as  if  rooted  to  the 
spot. 

"  Philip,"  she  murmured  softly,  doubting  her 
senses,  "  is  it  a  dream?  Am  I  a  child  again,  that 
you  stand  here  in  the  old  room,  in  the  old  tower 
where  first  you  loved  me,  where  first  your  lips  met 
mine?  Philip!" 

She  rose  to  her  feet  and  turned  toward  him. 
He  could  not  move,  she  fascinated  him. 

"  Philip!  "  she  cried  again,  her  voice  rising  in 
joy  and  fervour  mingled,  "  is  it  indeed  you?  I  left 
you  in  Quebec.  How  came  you  here?  " 

She  tottered  toward  him  in  lovely  bewilderment, 
but  her  strength  had  been  so  sorely  taxed  that  it 
now  gave  way — she  swayed  unsteadily  and  would 
have  fallen.  Another  step  took  him  to  her  side. 
He  clasped  her  to  his  breast,  strained  her  to  his 
heart  so  tightly  that  he  hurt  her  as  he  covered 
her  surprised  face  with  kisses.  She  sank  into  his 
arms.  Her  head  fell  upon  his  shoulder.  He  felt 
the  sinuous,  supple  yield  of  her  slender  body  as 
her  hands  met  around  his  neck.  For  the  mo 
ment  neither  spoke.  Presently  he  turned  her 
lovely  face  up  to  his  own  again.  He  looked  into 
her  eyes  once  more.  Not  the  blackness  of  the 
night  outside  the  dark  tower  was  so  deep  and  full 
as  they. 

"  O  Philip!  "  she  whispered,  returning  kiss 
for  kiss.  "  You  have  come  back  to  me.  Thank 
God,  you  have  come  back  to  me!  " 

262 


Three  Lovers  come   to  the  Tower 

"  Yet  you  left  me  in  America,  Anne.  You  left 
me  without  a  word!  How  could  you?  " 

"  My  letter?    Did  you  not  receive  it?  " 

"  Ay,  but  not  a  word  from  your  lips.  You  left 
me  alone,  ill,  helpless.  But  there — I  will  not 
reproach  you.  I  followed  you;  I  would  have  fol 
lowed  you  to  the  end  of  the  earth.  Did  you  not 
know  it?  Did  you  not  dream  that  I  should  be 
here?" 

She  nodded  her  head. 

"  I  looked  for  you,  I  waited  for  you,  I  knew  you 
would  come,  my  own! "  she  murmured,  laying  her 
cheek  upon  his  shoulder  again  with  a  long  sigh  of 
utter  content. 

He  was  here,  he  was  hers,  she  was  his,  he  held 
her  close  in  his  strong  arms — what  more?  His  clasp 
was  so  tight,  he  crushed  her  so  against  his  breast, 
that  the  diamond  cross  she  wore  was  pressed  deep 
into  her  tender  bosom.  What  mattered  it?  The 
pain  was  sweet  to  her,  'twas  love's  brand.  He 
would  never  release  her  now.  She  was  his  only. 
The  weary  days  of  waiting,  the  long  voyage  over 
the  stormy  seas,  the  plans  of  her  grandfather,  the 
hopes  of  de  Vitre — they  were  forgotten.  Honour, 
faith,  obedie.nce — he  had  conquered. 

"  Yours,  yours  only,  Philip,  my  darling — yours, 
yours,  yours  only,"  she  murmured  again  and  again 
as  she  felt  his  beating  heart.  It  was  so  restful  in 
his  arms  she  surrendered  herself  to  him  in  passion 
ate  devotion.  She  nestled  against  him  as  a  child, 
who  was  seeking  peace  and  longing  for  a  haven, 
might  have  done. 

263 


The  guiberon  Touch 

"  But  how  came  you  here,  Philip?  "  she  asked 
at  last,  withdrawing  from  his  arms  a  space  that  she 
might  look  at  him. 

How  handsome  he  was,  how  like  a  king! 

"  Do  you  not  remember  that  night  in  the  tower, 
my  own?  " 

"  Have  I  ever  forgotten  it?  There  you  kissed 
away  the  child,  and  from  that  moment  I  loved  you. 
'Twas  for  that  reason  I  bade  them  make  my  room 
here." 

"  You  recall  the  story  of  Baron  de  Croisic, 
sweet — how  we  wondered  if  one  could  climb  the 
wall?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  and  you  said,  given  a  sufficient — 
what  was  the  word,  Philip?  " 

"  Incentive,  sweet  Anne,  and  with  you  at  the 
top  I  could  have  climbed  to  heaven." 

"O  Philip!"  she  shuddered,  "and  did  you 
come  up  that  awful  wall  this  dark  night?  How 
could  you  do  it?  " 

"  Love  lent  me  wings.  I  saw  you  at  the  top. 
I  pictured  this  moment.  'Twas  hope  and  a  light 
heart  that  lifted  me  up,  my  darling." 

"  And  if  you  had  fallen?  " 

"  Then  you  would  have  been  troubled  no  longer. 
Little  France." 

"  I  should  have  laid  my  body  beside  yours,  Phil 
ip,  at  the  foot  of  the  tower  wall,"  she  cried,  trem 
bling  and  pressing  him  to  her  heart  once  more. 

"  But  your  engagement,  Anne?  " 

"  O  Philip,  that  is  not  all.  Not  only  did  I  prom 
ise  myself  to  Monsieur  de  Vitre,  but " 

264 


Three  Lovers  come  to  the  Tower 

"  You  were  betrothed  to-night  to  de  Ker- 
saint." 

"  You  know?  " 

"  I  was  there." 

"There?    Where?" 

"  In  the  armory,  behind  the  curtain." 

"  Ah!  "  she  cried.  "  'Twas  you  that  made  me 
look  and  gaze!  " 

"  Yes,  'twas  I.    But  you  do  not  love  this  man?  " 

She  laughed. 

"  Philip,  my  Philip,  can  you  not  see  whom  I 
love?  There  is  not  a  throb  of  my  heart  that  is  not 
for  you.  Ah,  would  that  you  might  say  the  same!  " 

"  I  do  say  it,  dearest.    I  swear  it!  " 

"  But  that  picture  in  the  locket?  " 

"  Set  your  heart  at  ease,  Anne.  In  a  little  while 
you  shall  know  the  mystery  of  that." 

"  I  have  no  mysteries  from  you,  Philip." 

"  Nor  shall  I  have  from  you,  love,  when  this 
poor  story  is  told.  But  tell  me,  what  is  it  you  will 
do?" 

"  I  know  not.  My  honour  was  pledged  to  de 
Vitre,  although,  with  my  grandfather's  refusal,  that 
conditional  promise  is  broken,  and  I  am  free  there. 
My  heart  is  given  to  you,  and  my  grandfather 
plights  me  to  de  Kersaint.  What  shall  I  do?  " 

"  Follow  your  heart,  Anne;  love  is  the  safest 
guide.  Listen.  I  have  a  rope  here  attached  to  the 
tower,  I  can  lower  you  safely  and  easily  down. 
There,  in  a  little  bay  below,  a  trusty  man  and  a  little 
boat  are  ready  for  us.  Outside  on  the  ocean  my 
stout  frigate  waits  us.  Come  with  me.  In  one  day 
18  265 


The  (Juiberon  Touch 

we  are  in  England,  free,  and  we  shall  be  married  at 
once.  Trust  me  as  you  love  me.  I  will  give  up 
my  commission  in  the  navy  of  England,  if  you  wish ; 
we  will  go  back  to  America,  and  there,  in  your 
mother's  land,  Anne,  make  home  and  happiness  to 
gether." 

"  Philip,"  she  cried,  persuaded  yet  resistant,  "  I 
— I  can  not." 

He  gently  led  her  toward  the  window,  faintly 
protesting,  feebly  struggling.  How  masterful  he 
was,  this  wooer  who  would  not  be  denied!  Could 
she  resist  him?  Her  will — ay,  but  her  heart,  was 
traitor,  and  to  every  plea  he  urged  it  beat  yes,  yes, 
yes! 

"  Mercy,  Philip!  De  Vitre!  Monsieur  de  Ker- 
saint!  My  grandfather,  my  country,  my  home! 
Pity  me.  Do  not  ask.  I  am  weak  before  you.  I 
can  not,  and  yet,  if  you  say  so,  I  must!  Oh,  look 
not  so!  " 

"  But  you  love  me.  Can  you  not  trust  yourself 
with  me?  Will  you  not  give  up  all  these  things  for 
me?  Love  is  selfish — yes,  I  know  it;  but  that  I 
can  not  help.  I  must  ask  you  to  throw  aside  all  of 
your  life  for  me,  and  me  alone !  I  love  you  so !  Nay, 
you  shall,  you  must!  Come!  " 

He  bent  lower  to  her  and  poured  his  soul  into 
her  own  in  burning  glances.  She  had  fought  a  good 
fight,  she  had  struggled  to  keep  her  heart  and  keep 
her  faith.  It  was  over. 

"  I  throw  them  all  aside,  Philip!  "  she  cried, 
the  relief  of  the  decision  apparent  in  her  joyous 
voice.  "  And  if  you  will  take  me  as  I  am,  I  will 

266 


Three  Lovers  come  to  the  Tower 

go  with  you  to  England,  to  America,  to  the  end  of 
the  world,  even!  " 

But  the  sacrifice  he  asked  with  love's  egotism, 
and  which  she  was  so  willing  to  make  with  love's 
altruism,  was  not  to  be. 

"  Some  one  comes!  "  cried  Josette  in  great  agi 
tation,  thrusting  her  head  through  the  door. 
"  Quick,  hide  yourself,  monsieur,  or  you  are 
lost!" 

It  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  carry  out  his 
plan  of  lowering  her  from  the  tower  now;  it  would 
take  time,  and  they  must  be  unhindered. 

"  Go,  go!  "  cried  Anne,  "  you  will  be  captured 
—killed!" 

"Without  you!  Never!"  answered  Grafton. 
"  You  must  conceal  me." 

"  But  where?  " 

"There!"  cried  Josette,  pointing  to  the  coun 
tess's  bed-chamber.  "  Tis  the  only  place." 

She  opened  the  door  into  the  adjoining  room. 
Grafton,  pressing  a  kiss  upon  Anne's  cold  cheek, 
sprang  through  it  and  closed  it  after  him.  He  felt 
himself  awed  in  that  peaceful  haven  of  her  maiden 
innocence,  as  if  he  had  stepped  into  a  sanctuary,  be 
fore  a  shrine.  He  remained  standing  by  the  door, 
which  he  had  left  slightly  ajar,  so  that  he  could 
both  see  and  hear  all  that  went  on  in  the  other 
room. 

"  Sit,  mademoiselle,  control  yourself! "  cried 
Josette,  as  some  one  tapped  at  the  door. 

Anne,  trembling  violently,  sank  down  on  the 
fauteuil,  turning  her  face  from  the  light,  and 

267 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

struggled  resolutely  for  composure,  while  Josette 
opened  the  door.  Instantly  a  young  man  dashed  by 
her. 

"  Monsieur  de  Vitre,"  cried  Anne,  rising  to  her 
feet  in  haughty  surprise,  "  how  dare  you  come  to 
my  apartments  uninvited,  sir?  " 

"  Mademoiselle,"  cried  the  Frenchman,  "  I  am 
so  desperate  I  could  go  anywhere!  I  have  sat  silent 
too  long.  I  have  heard  you  engaged  to  Monsieur 
de  Kersaint  in  the  hall  below,  yet  your  troth  is 
plighted  to  me.  Forgive  me,  I  am  mad,  crazy! 
To  see  you,  to  love  you,  to  have  you  promised  to 
me,  and  then  to  listen  to  this  announcement  to 
night!  I  know  not  what  I  do.  You  are  mine, 
mademoiselle,  and  yet  you  have  scarcely  allowed  me 
to  kiss  your  hand.  Is  this  the  fidelity  of  a  de  Ro 
han?  Your  hand  is  promised,  you  were  not  free. 
He  shall  not  have  you.  You  are  mine  by  every 
right!" 

"Stop,  Monsieur  de  Vitre!  My  word  is — was 
— yours,  and  I  had  honestly  meant  to  keep  it,  but 
do  you  not  recall  that  in  the  hall  of  the  Chateau 
St.  Louis  I  told  you  when  I  first  permitted  you  to 
consider  yourself  engaged  to  me  that  it  all  depend 
ed  upon  the  marquis;  a  declaration,  sir,  that  I  re 
peated  in  my  own  house  in  Quebec,  when  you  were 
released  from  confinement,  that  I  have  said  over 
and  over  again  to  you  in  the  ship?  He  would  not 
hear  of  it,  sir,  even  when  we  broached  the  subject 
tentatively.  "Pis  impossible.  And  there  is  one 
right,  sir,  that  you  never  had." 

"  And  what  is  that,  pray?  " 
268 


Three  Lovers  come  to  the  Tower 

"  I  do  not  love  you,  sir,  nor  did  I  ever  pretend  to 
do  so." 

"  Do  you  love  this  de  Kersaint,  then,  mademoi 
selle?  "  cried  the  Frenchman  furiously. 

"  Monsieur,  you  have  no  right  to  question 
me." 

"  Right?  Are  you  not  my  promised  wife?  But 
I  remember,  you  told  me  that  you  loved  no  gentle 
man  of  France.  Is  there  any  one  else?  You  blush, 
mademoiselle.  That  Englishman?  What  a  blind 
fool  I  have  been.  But  he  has  no  more  chance  than 
I.  De  Kersaint  takes  the  prize.  Did  you  plight 
Captain  Grafton  your  troth,  too?  And  I  can  not  re 
sent  it.  I  can  not  kill  him.  I  owe  him  too  much — 
life,  honour,  I  was  going  to  add — you.  You!  " 
She  shivered  under  the  scorn  in  his  voice.  "  But 
I  pity  him,  too,"  he  went  on.  "  He  depends  on 
your  love,  and  I  on  your  honour.  The  love  of  a 
traitress,  the  honour  of  the  de  Rohans,  mademoi 
selle!  " 

He  laughed  bitterly  in  a  way  not  good  to  hear. 
Suddenly  his  glance  fell  upon  the  table  by  the  win 
dow.  There  was  something  there.  He  stopped  as 
if  petrified  with  astonishment. 

"  What's  that?  "  he  cried. 

"  Sir!  "  said  Anne,  furious  with  indignation,  and 
yet,  in  her  heart,  a  certain  pity  for  this  unfortunate 
lover,  as  he  made  a  sudden  dart  past  her.  "  How 
dare  you?  Retire  from  my  apartments,  or " 

"  I  came  in  alone,  mademoiselle,  but  I  shall  go 
out  with  the  wearer  of  this,"  he  exclaimed  fiercely, 
lifting  a  hat  from  the  table.  "  Whose  head  fits  this 

269 


The  guiberon  Touch 

chapeau,  I  wonder — the  marquis'?  De  Kersaint's? 
Ha,  'tis  laced — a  naval  hat!  An  English  hat,  ma 
demoiselle.  Who  is  here?  " 

"  Grafton,"  murmured  Anne  in  surprise,  taken 
off  her  guard. 

"  He  is  here,  then? "  he  cried  jealously. 
"  Where  is  he?  Mon  Dieu,  in  that  room,  your 
chamber?  Stand  aside,  mademoiselle.  Let  me 
pass!" 

"  Never!  "  answered  the  girl  resolutely.  "  You 
presume  too  much,  sir,  upon  my  forbearance. 
Leave  my  room  instantly!  " 

Another  second  and  Grafton  had  broken  forth; 
a  new  sound  checked  him,  however,  some  one  else 
was  coming.  He  listened  once  more. 

"  Who  speaks  thus  roughly  to  the  Demoiselle 
de  Rohan?  "  said  a  deep,  harsh  voice,  as  old  Jean- 
Renaud  entered  the  room.  "  Monsieur  de  Vitre, 
how  dare  you  address  my  mistress  in  this  way?  Did 
I  not  hear  the  Countess  Anne  beg  you  to  retire, 
sir?  Her  will  is  law  here.  Monsieur,  will  you  go, 
or  not?  " 

He  stepped  toward  the  young  man  threatening 
ly,  all  his  rough  Breton  fidelity  at  the  service  of  his 
fair  young  mistress. 

"The  marquis!"  whispered  Josette,  whose 
acute  ear  had  caught  the  tramp  of  feet  in  the  hall, 
whose  glance  had  recognised  her  master.  "  He  is 
coming!  " 

"  I  am  lost!  "  said  de  Vitre. 

"  Nay,"  cried  the  quick-witted  maid,  "  step  be 
hind  that  screen  yonder  and  be  silent  as  you  fear 

270 


Three  Lovers  come  to  the  Tower 

your  life.    They  suspect  something,  I  am  sure.    Oh, 
what  escape  is  there  for  us!  " 

With  feelings  that  can  scarcely  be  imagined, 
Anne  sank  down  in  her  chair  again,  striving  vainly 
to  compose  herself  for  the  expected  entrance  of  her 
grandfather.  The  room  swam  before  her,  yet  she 
strained  herself  up  to  meet  the  situation.  What 
was  the  cause  and  what  would  be  the  outcome  of 
this  visit? 

She  could  hear  him  outside  her  door  in  the  hall 
now.  He  had  not  come  alone,  evidently,  for  there 
was  the  sound  of  many  steps  upon  the  stone  flag 
ging  of  the  corridor.  Presently  there  came  a  tap 
upon  the  door.  Josette,  at  a  nod  from  her  mis 
tress,  opened  it.  The  marquis  entered,  followed 
by  de  Kersaint  and  one  or  two  attendants  with 
lights. 

Anne  rose  to  her  feet  as  both  gentlemen  bowed 
profoundly  to  her. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  began  the  marquis  in  his 
stateliest  manner,  "  I  have  brought  with  me  your 
old  friend  and  new  lover " 

"  Nay,  my  dear  marquis,"  interrupted  de 
Kersaint,  who  was  not  without  the  gallantry  of 
his  race,  "  pray  say,  old  lover  as  well  as  old 
friend." 

"  As  you  will.  At  any  rate,  my  dear  grand 
daughter,  Monsieur  de  Kersaint  has  come  hither 
to  bid  you  farewell." 

"  Be  seated,  gentlemen,"  said  Anne.  "  Does 
Monsieur  de  Kersaint  go  farther  than  Brest,  mon 
sieur?  " 

271 


The  guiberon  Touch 

"  Mademoiselle,"  answered  the  sailor,  "  he  who 
starts  upon  a  cruise  in  war  knows  not  how  long  his 
journey  nor  where  it  ends." 

"  Does  your  ship  sail,  then?  " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle,  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

"  And  the  other  vessels?  " 

"  The  whole  fleet  goes  out  under  Monsieur  de 
Conflans  himself  to  fight  the  English." 

"  I  hope  God  may  have  you  in  his  keeping,  mon 
sieur." 

"  Thank  you,  mademoiselle,  but  have  you  no 
kinder  wish  with  which  to  send  me  on  my  way? 
The  marquis,  your  grandfather,  has  announced  our 
engagement.  May  I  not  seal  it  upon  your  lips  be 
fore  I  go,  Mademoiselle  Anne?  " 

The  two  men  who  were  listening,  the  one  be 
hind  the  screen,  the  other  behind  the  door,  were 
filled  with  jealous  rage  at  this,  and,  with  an  abso 
lute  parallelism  of  thought,  would  have  given 
worlds  to  rush  forth  upon  the  Frenchman  who  prof 
fered  this  natural  request. 

"  I  would  rather  not,  monsieur,"  faintly  an 
swered  the  girl,  shaking  her  head. 

"  But,  my  dear,  when  you  were  a  child  I  carried 
you  many  times  and  kissed  you  often." 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  but  I  am  a  child  no  longer. 
You  will  wait,  I  am  sure,  until — you  have  a  better 
claim — a  more  binding  tie." 

The  two  listeners  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  as 
they  heard  Anne's  resolute  denial.  Indeed,  had  she 
yielded,  or  had  de  Kersaint  pressed  the  point,  Graf- 

272 


Three  Lovers  come  to  the  Tower 

ton,  for  one,  would  have  broken  forth  and  killed 
him  before  he  had  touched  her  lips. 

"  You  will  respect  the  scruples  of  a  maiden,  de 
Kersaint,"  said  the  marquis.  "  I  rejoice  that  her 
long  absence  in  Canada  has  not  weakened  her  ad 
herence  to  the  principles  which  I  have  endeavoured 
to  inculcate  in  her  when  she  was  a  child.  The  de 
moiselles  de  Rohan  were  ever  chary  of  kisses,  but 
you  will  find  that  they  are  lavish  in  honour,  and 
when  you  come  back  you  may  claim  her  as  your 
bride,  and  then " 

Grafton  ground  his  teeth  over  this  significant 
hiatus. 

"  Mademoiselle,  it  costs  you  little  to  say  No,  and 
me  much  to  say  Yes,  but  for  you  I  will  do  it.  I  can 
refuse  you  nothing,"  responded  de  Kersaint,  bow 
ing  low  over  her  hand.  "  I  shall  long  for  the  day 
when,  the  last  barrier  broken  down,  I  may  claim  you 
as  my  own." 

"  God  speed  that  time,  say  I,"  remarked  the 
marquis.  . 

"  Thank  you,  de  Chabot,"  answered  de  Ker 
saint,  "  but  now  I  must  set  forth.  Good-bye,  made 
moiselle." 

"  Adieu,  Monsieur  de  Kersaint." 

"  Nay,  nay,  not  adieu,  but  au  revoir." 

"  Au  revoir,  then,  monsieur,  and  may  God  pro 
tect  you." 

"  May  the  prayer  of  the  beautiful  be  heard," 
answered  de  Kersaint,  turning  slowly  away. 


273 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

DE   VITRE   PAYS    FOR   HIS    LIFE   AND    HONOUR 

"  ATTEND  Monsieur  de  Kersaint,  Jean-Re- 
naud,"  said  the  marquis  to  the  old  retainer,  who  had 
been  an  interested  spectator  of  the  whole  transac 
tion,  as  the  count  stepped  to  the  door.  But  before 
either  the  sailor  or  the  servant  had  passed  through 
the  entrance,  the  marquis'  steward  appeared  in  the 
way. 

"  Pardon  this  intrusion,  Monsieur  le  Marquis," 
he  said  in  great  agitation,  "  but  there  is  something 
which  monsieur  should  know.  There  is  a  stranger 
— a  spy,  perhaps,  somewhere  in  the  chateau.  One 
of  the  servants  told  me  tha£  he  saw  a  woman,  or 
some  one,  in  the  armory  during  the  dinner  listen 
ing;  and  others  have  said  that  one  cloaked  and 
hooded  flitted  along  the  hall  and  came  up  these 
stairs  after  the  dinner.  I  thought  monsieur  would 
not  wish  any  one  to  know  what  passed  at  the  table 
and  I  ventured  to  come  here." 

"  And  you  did  well,  Basile,"  answered  the  mar 
quis.  "  A  cloaked  figure,  a  woman,  then.  What 
sort  of  a  cloak?  " 

"  One  like  mademoiselle  the  countess'  foster 
sister  wears,"  answered  the  man  slowly. 

274 


De  Vitre  Pays  for  his  Life 

"What,  Josette!"  exclaimed  the  marquis. 
"  De  Kersaint,  stay  a  moment  until  we  look  into 
this.  Come  hither,  woman!"  he  cried  to  the  af 
frighted  maid.  "  Know  you  aught  of  this?  " 

The  girl  was  almost  paralyzed  with  terror  as  she 
slowly  stumbled  nearer  him.  As  for  Anne,  she  sank 
back  in  her  chair  as  if  stricken.  Was  Grafton  about 
to  be  discovered,  then?  Fortunately,  no  one  no 
ticed  her  at  the  time. 

Josette  stopped  before  her  master,  white  with 
fear,  dumb  with  apprehension. 

"Answer  me!"  cried  the  marquis.  "Speak! 
Ha!  what  is  this?  "  he  exclaimed,  stepping  across 
the  room  and  picking  up  the  cloak  from  a  chair 
where  Grafton  had  thrown  it.  "  Was  this  it?  " 

"  I  judge  so,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  answered 
Basile. 

"  Speak,  woman! "  thundered  the  old  man. 
"  Whose  cloak  is  this?  " 

"  Mine,  sir,"  faltered  the  girl. 

"  And  who  wore  it  to-night?  " 

"  I— I  did  myself,  sir." 

"  Were  you  in  the  armory  listening?  " 

"  I — yes — sir.    Oh,  mon  Dieu,  mon  Dieu!  " 

She  sank  on  her  knees  on  the  floor,  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  Will  Monsieur  le  Marquis  pardon  me?  "  said 
Basile  insistently.  "  The  person,  a  man,  perhaps, 
was  seen  with  Madame  Josette." 

"Ah,  so!"  cried  the  marquis,  turning  fiercely 
to  the  prostrate  woman.  "  You  have  lied  to  me, 
then?  " 

275 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

"  Yes,  monsieur,"  she  sobbed. 

"  Who  was  it?    Speak,  you  fool!  " 

But  the  girl  only  shook  her  head  and  sobbed 
and  wailed  at  his  feet.  The  marquis  could  get  noth 
ing  further  from  her. 

"  Curse  these  women!  "  he  exclaimed  in  deep 
disgust.  "  Where  did  they  go,  Basile?  " 

"  They  came  up  this  stair,  monsieur." 

"  Have  you  men  outside  the  door?  " 

"  Yes,  Monsieur  le  Marquis." 

"  Bid  them  search  every  chamber  in  this  corri 
dor.  Now,  Mademoiselle  Anne,"  he  said,  turning  to 
the  countess,  "  perhaps  you  can  help  us.  Know 
you  aught  of  this  strange  visitor?  Has  any  one 
been  here?  " 

Anne's  tongue  clave  to  the  roof  of  her  mouth, 
her  knees  trembled  beneath  her,  her  heart  stopped 
its  breathing  in  terror,  but  she  could  not  lie,  even  to 
save  her  lover.  She  looked  at  the  marquis  in  si 
lence. 

"  There  is  no  one  in  the  other  rooms,  Monsieur* 
le  Marquis,"  said  the  steward  as  the  men  reported 
to  him. 

"  Ha!  He  must  be  here,  then.  Anne,  tell  me — 
Why  are  you  silent?  What  is  it,  child?  "  her  grand 
father  bent  over  toward  her.  "  Speak!  I  will  have 
an  answer!  Did  any  one  come  here?  is  there  any 
one  here  now?  By  Heaven,  these  women  exasper 
ate  me  beyond  endurance!  Jean-Renaud,  you  were 
here  when  I  came  in.  How  long  had  you  been 
here?  " 

"  But  a  few  moments,  Monsieur  le  Marquis." 
276 


De  Vitre  Pays  for  his  Life 

"  Did  any  one  come  in  while  you  were  here?  " 

"  No,  monsieur." 

"  You  have  been  a  faithful  servant  for  fifty  years, 
you  would  not  lie  to  me.  I  ask  you  again,  did  any 
one  come  while  you  were  here?  " 

"  No,  monsieur." 

"  Your  pardon,  de  Chabot,"  interrupted  the 
Comte  de  Kersaint,  "  let  me  ask  another  question. 
Jean-Renaud,  was  there  any  one  here  besides  made 
moiselle  and  her  maid  when  you  came  in?  " 

The  Breton  looked  stubbornly  at  the  sailor. 

"  You  are  not  my  master,  Monsieur  de  Ker 
saint,"  he  answered. 

"  Answer  his  question,  Jean-Renaud,"  said  the 
marquis  sharply. 

The  old  man  stared  at  the  two  gentlemen  in  si 
lence. 

"  Answer  it  to  me,  then." 

The  lips  of  the  old  servant  remained  sealed. 

"  You  dog! "  shouted  the  marquis  furiously. 
"  How  dare  you  disobey  my  orders!  And  to  what 
end?  Your  silence  proves  that  some  one  was  here. 
Who  was  it?  Speak,  I  command  you!  On  your 
allegiance,  by  your  faith,  by  the  duty  you  owe  me,  I 
charge  you.  I  wish  to  know  who  was  here.  I  will 
know  it!  Ten  thousand  devils!  "  he  roared,  exas 
perated  beyond  measure  at  the  man's  stubborn  si 
lence.  "  Will  you  speak,  or  not?  As  God  hears  me, 
if  you  do  not  answer  immediately,  I  shall  pass  my 
sword  through  you!  " 

"  That  is  as  monsieur  pleases,"  answered  Jean- 
Renaud  sturdily.  "  Monsieur  is  a  gentleman,  and  I 

277 


The  guiberon  Touch 

am  only  a  Breton  peasant,  but  I  have  my  ideas  of 
honour,  too.  Serving  monsieur  and  his  son  for  fifty 
years  in  this  house,  how  could  it  be  otherwise?  And 
my  honour  bids  me  be  silent.  Monsieur  may  kill 
me,  I  am  his  man,  my  life  is  his,  but  monsieur  can 
not  make  me  speak!  " 

Furious  with  rage  the  marquis  shortened  his 
arm  and  drew  back  his  sword. 

"  Strike  not,  de  Chabot!  "  cried  de  Kersaint  in 
terposing,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  other's  arm. 
"  What  need?  Tis  certain  some  one  is  here.  The 
silence  of  the  maid,  the  acquiescence  of  mademoi 
selle,  and  the  refusal  of  this  old  man  to  confirm  or 
deny,  prove  it  beyond  a  doubt.  There  is  no  exit 
from  this  or  the  other  chamber,  if  I  remember  the 
castle,  save  by  the  door  through  which  we  came. 
The  man  or  woman  must  be  there.  Let  us  search. 
Honour  your  servant  for  his  ancient  fidelity,  de 
Chabot.  He  would  not  betray  a  woman.  There  is 
some  one  here — some  one  in  the  room  of  the  wom 
an  I  love,  the  woman  who  is  this  night  plighted  to 
me.  Let  us  search.  That  door,  yonder?  What 
room  is  that?  " 

"  Monsieur,"  cried  Anne,  stepping  across  to  the 
door,  her  face  aflame,  "  'tis  my  bed-chamber.  You 
may  not  pass  within  it  but  over  my  body." 

She  had  not  remembered  de  Vitre,  but  she 
was  on  fire  to  protect  Grafton.  Yet  it  was  a  desper 
ate,  a  hopeless  situation.  No  matter,  she  would 
fight  for  him  to  the  end — they  should  not  harm 
him. 

"  Mademoiselle,  assure  me  on  the  honour  of  a 
278 


De  Vitr6  Pays  for  his  Life 

de  Rohan  that  there  is  no  one  there  and  I  with 
draw." 

She  endeavoured  to  speak,  vainly  moistening 
her  dry  lips,  but  she  could  not,  so  she  stood  silent 
and  determined  between  him  and  the  door  behind 
which  Grafton,  his  sword  out,  his  blood  up,  was  in 
readiness  to  make  a  dash  for  liberty.  But  his  time 
was  not  yet. 

"  Enough,  de  Kersaint,"  exclaimed  the  mar 
quis,  "  you  may  not  enter  those  sacred  precincts, 
but  I,  an  old  man,  grandfather  to  this  wayward 
child,  may  go  anywhere.  Stand  aside,  Anne — 
or " 

"Mercy!  mercy!"  cried  the  girl,  dropping  to 
her  knees  before  the  door.  "  Mere  de  Dieu!  Help 
me,  have  pity  upon  me!  " 

"  Oh,  he  is  in  there,  then?  A  moment,  de  Ker 
saint,  and  you  shall  have  him  before  your  sword," 
cried  the  marquis,  springing  forward. 

Grafton  thought  his  hour  was  come.  But  no, 
not  yet! 

"  Search  no  farther,"  exclaimed  a  sharp  voice 
from  the  other  side  of  the  room,  as  de  Vitre,  pale  as 
death,  threw  down  the  screen  and  revealed  himself. 
He  had  heard  all,  divined  all.  Anne  loved  him  not. 
He  would  sacrifice  himself  for  her,  for  her  lover, 
pay  back  some  of  the  debt  he  owed  to  Grafton. 

"  Oh,  thank  God,  thank  God!  "  cried  Anne,  ris 
ing  to  her  feet  and  shrinking  back  against  the  door 
frame. 

"  Monsieur  de  Vitre!  "  the  marquis  called  out, 
in  great  surprise. 

279 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

"  Captain  de  Vitre,  by  Heaven,  what  do  you 
here?  "  demanded  de  Kersaint,  springing  forward 
threateningly. 

"  Messieurs,  I  came  here  as  the  rightful  be 
trothed  of  Mademoiselle  Rohan,  as  the  man  who 
had  received  her  troth  in  New  France.  Resolved  to 
make  one  more  appeal  to  her,  I  left  the  banquet-hall 
to  throw  myself  at  her  feet." 

"  Did  you  come  by  the  invitation  of  mademoi 
selle?  "  asked  de  Kersaint. 

"  No,  monsieur.    I  came  unannounced." 

"  You  love  this  man,  mademoiselle?  " 

"Alas!  no,  Monsieur  de  Kersaint,"  answered 
Anne.  "  I  esteem  him.  He  sought  my  hand  under 
peculiar  circumstances  in  New  France.  I  consent 
ed,  subject  to  the  acquiescence  of  Monsieur  le 
Marquis,  and  when  I  told  him  of  it  he  laughed  at 
me." 

"  'Twas  but  a  boy  and  girl  affair,  de  Kersaint, 
not  worth  mentioning,"  answered  the  marquis. 

"  But  he  came  here?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  monsieur,"  cried  Anne.  "  But  with 
out  an  invitation,  and,  indeed,  unwelcome.  The 
mystery  is  now  over.  Retire,  gentlemen,  I  beg  of 
you.  This  has  been  too  much  for  me." 

The  marquis  started  to  speak,  when  something 
caught  his  eye  and  he  stopped  as  if  petrified.  Re 
sisting  his  first  impulse  to  cry  out,  he  slipped 
around  to  the  table  near  the  screen,  and  covering  it 
with  his  person  remained  silent,  his  gaze  fixed  in 
cold  suspicion  upon  his  grand-daughter.  As  for  de 
Kersaint,  he  would  let  him  fight  his  own  battle;  af- 

280 


De  Vitre  Pays  for  his  Life 

terward  he  had  other  plans.  De  Kersaint  stopped 
and  thought  a  moment. 

"  You  came,"  he  said  at  last  to  de  Vitre,  who 
stood  pale  and  haggard  with  folded  arms  before 
him,  "  without  invitation?  " 

"  I  have  said  so." 

"  Unwelcome?  " 

"Alas!  yes." 

"  Mademoiselle  did  beg  him  to  retire,"  broke  in 
Jean-Renaud.  "  I  heard  her." 

"  And  monsieur  would  not  go  aw^y,"  added  Jo- 
sette,  who  had  regained  her  voice. 

"  Your  attentions  were  not  pleasing  to  made 
moiselle,  then?  " 

"  No,  monsieur,  I  fear  not." 

"  By  God,  sir!  "  cried  the  Frenchman  in  sudden 
passion,  "  you  are  my  executive  officer,  my  trusted 
subordinate,  but  if  we  were  not  about  to  sail  I  would 
challenge  you  so  that  I  might  pass  my  sword 
through  you!  As  it  is,  sir,  you  shall  be  dismissed 
the  ship.  I'll  not  sail  with  you,  you  disgrace  your 
uniform!  " 

In  his  anger  and  surprise  de  Kersaint  had  for 
gotten  about  the  cloak  and  the  spy,  it  seemed. 

"  Monsieur,"  cried  de  Vitre,  desperately,  at  this 
threat,  "  think  a  moment.  I  was  mad  with  love 
for  mademoiselle.  She  was  my  promised  bride. 
Never  had  she  permitted  me  a  greater  privilege  than 
to  touch  my  lips  to  her  hand.  No  one  would  con 
sider  me.  I  saw  happiness  slipping  from  me.  Her 
beauty  crazed  me.  I  forgot  myself.  But  'tis  all  over 
now.  She  does  not  love  me.  She  has  rejected  me. 
19  281 


The  guiberon  Touch 

Oh,  monsieur,  for  God's  sake,  crush  not  a  broken 
man!  I  ask  no  forgiveness,  only  an  opportunity. 
We  sail  to-night.  Give  me  my  place  upon  the  ship. 
Perchance  some  fortunate  bullet  may  find  my  heavy 
heart.  Monsieur,  you  were  a  young  man  once.  If 
you  love  mademoiselle  now,  think  what  I  have  felt 
and  find  some  excuse. — Mademoiselle,"  he  contin 
ued,  turning  to  Anne  with  a  meaning  glance,  "  you 
will  not  have  me,  it  seems.  All  the  dreams  I  have 
cherished  are  broken  and  shattered.  My  heart  is 
dust  and  ashes  within  me.  There  is  left  me  but  one 
desire,  one  hope:  since  I  may  not  live  and  love  you, 
I  wish  to  die  for  France.  I  have  done  you  some 
slight  service,  perhaps,  in  days  gone  by,"  he  went  on 
pleadingly,  "  will  you  not  intercede  for  me  with 
Monsieur  de  Kersaint?  " 

"  Monsieur  de  Kersaint,"  cried  the  girl, 
touched  by  the  plea,  realizing  that  he  had  given 
himself  up  to  save  her  and  her  lover,  sorry  for  his 
misery,  "  will  you  not  heed  the  request  of  Mon 
sieur  de  Vitre?  You  were  ever  generous,  kind. 
Oh,  monsieur,  may  not  that  which  has  moved  you 
— to  want — me  " — she  stretched  out  her  arms  to 
ward  him — "  plead  with  you  to  excuse  him?  " 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  the  count,  looking  at  her 
with  eyes  full  of  admiration,  "  I  can  refuse  you  noth 
ing.  I  can  not  forget  this,  but  I  can  forgive  Mon 
sieur  de  Vitre.  You  are  excuse  enough  for  any 
thing.  By  Heaven,  your  beauty  would  make  any 
man  mad!  Rejoin  your  ship,  Captain  de  Vitre. 
Perhaps  there  may  be  no  more  friendship  between 
us,  but  at  least  you  may  do  your  duty." 

282 


De  Vitr6  Pays  for  his  Life 

"  Thank  you,  Monsieur  de  Kersaint.  Monsieur 
le  Marquis,  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan,  farewell!" 

"  Nay,  Monsieur  de  Vitre,  I  can  not  part  from 
an  old  friend  thus  lightly!  "  exclaimed  the  girl, 
stretching  out  her  arm.  He  seized  her  hand, 
dropped  on  his  knees  before  her,  and  rested  his 
forehead  upon  it. 

"  This  for  life  and  honour,"  he  whispered,  so 
that  none  but  she  could  hear.  "  Think  of  me  some 
times.  Farewell!  " 

"  Go,  monsieur,"  she  said,  "  and  may  God  bless 
you!  You  have  the  gratitude,  the  eternal  remem 
brance,"  she  whispered,  "  of  Anne  de  Rohan." 

"  Farewell,  mademoiselle,"  said  Kersaint,  ap 
proaching  in  his  turn,  "  may  God  speed  the  day 
when  I  may  come  to  claim  you  again.  De  Chabot, 
good-bye.  Enavant,  de  Vitre." 

"  Jean-Renaud,  attend  Monsieur  de  Kersaint," 
cried  the  marquis  again,  as  they  passed  out.  "  Ba- 
sile,  withdraw  the  servants  and  wait  for  me  at  the 
end  of  the  passage-way  by  the  staircase." 


283 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

GRAFTON    WINS    AND    LOSES 

As  the  three  men  and  the  servants  left  the  room, 
with  an  expression  of  relief  so  great  that  she  could 
not  describe  it,  Anne  sank  down  in  the  chair  by 
the  table.  She  thought  her  lover  extricated  at  last 
from  his  precarious  position.  Her  emotions  during 
the  last  few  moments,  when  she  feared  that  the  mar 
quis  would  discover  his  presence,  and  then  when  de 
Vitre  had  so  nobly  interfered  in  his  behalf,  had  been 
almost  more  than  she  could  bear.  She  forgot  for 
the  moment  that  the  marquis  had  not  gone  with  the 
others.  She  had  not  remarked  his  suspicious  si 
lence,  his  strange  movement,  in  the  excitement  of 
the  passing  moments. 

"  Now,  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan,"  he  said  harsh 
ly,  "  since  this  play  has  been  played  out  and  the 
actors  in.  the  little  comedy  have  departed,  will  you 
be  good  enough  to  explain  the  situation?  Will  you 
tell  me  who  it  was  that  wore  Josette's  cloak;  who 
listened  in  the  armory;  whom  you  have  entertained 
in  this  room,  whom  you  conceal  in  your  chamber?  " 

"  What  mean  you,  monsieur?  "  she  faltered,  all 
her  terror  coming  back  again.  "  Monsieur  de 

Vitre " 

284 


Grafton  Wins  and  Loses 

"  De  Vitre  is  a  fool,"  exclaimed  the  marquis 
angrily,  "  and  yet  I  admire  the  man.  He  took  it  all 
upon  himself  like  a  gallant  gentleman." 

"  Monsieur  de  Vitre  told  nothing  but  the  truth, 
monsieur." 

"  Quite  so,"  answered  the  marquis,  with  diffi 
culty  restraining  himself.  He  was  in  deadly  earnest, 
with  the  suppressed  fury  of  his  most  dangerous  mo 
ment.  "  Quite  so.  I  have  no  doubt  he  told  the 
truth.  It  spoke  in  his  eyes.  But  did  he  tell  it 
all?  You  answer  not.  But  what  need?  Did  Mon 
sieur  de  Vitre  leave  this  hat  on  the  table?  I  have 
seen  hats  like  that,  mademoiselle,  but  upon  English 
heads." 

"  Monsieur,"  stammered  the  girl. 

"  No  more  faltering!  "  continued  the  marquis, 
pacing  back  and  forth  before  her.  "  He  is  here. 
A  lover  in  your  room,  an  Englishman,  and  you  have 

betrayed  me,  betrayed  your  honour;  you "  he 

used  a  harsh  word  from  the  camps.  "  Stand  aside!  " 

He  laid  his  hand  roughly  on  her  arm.  She 
struggled  to  bar  the  way,  moaning  faintly.  The 
door  was  thrown  open,  the  hangings  dashed  apart, 
and  Grafton,  sword  in  hand,  sprang  into  the  room. 
At  last! 

"Monsieur  le  Marquis!"  he  cried,  "release 
mademoiselle!  By  Heaven,  no  man  lays  a  hand 
upon  her  when  I  am  by,  not  even  though  he  be  her 
father!" 

"  Captain  Grafton!  "  exclaimed  the  marquis,  in 
voluntarily  letting  go  his  grand-daughter's  wrist 
and  falling  back  in  great  surprise,  "  you  here,  sir?  " 

285 


The   guiberon  Touch 

"  Why  not?  I  love  the  Countess  de  Rohan,  and, 
presumptuous  as  I  may  seem,  I  dare  to  affirm  that 
she  loves  me  as  well.  Indeed,  sir,  since  the  mo 
ment  I  held  her  in  my  arms  five  years  ago  in  this 
very  chamber  at  midnight,  and  kissed  away  her 
tears,  I  have  loved  her.  The  fortune  of  war  brought 
me  wounded  to  her  feet  in  Canada,  sir,  and  there 
I  found  I  loved  her  still;  and,  what  was  more, 
I  learned  that  she  had  not  forgotten  me.  She  left 
me  behind  wounded  and  ill,  but  I  followed  her  here. 
Sir,  I  have  come  to  claim  her." 

"  My  God!  "  faltered  the  marquis,  as  if  dazed 
by  this  sudden  development  of  the  situation,  "  and  I 
trusted  her  to  your  honour!  "  He  looked  years 
older  at  that  instant,  his  face  blanched  and  work 
ing.  Grafton  pitied  him. 

"  Monsieur,  I  pledge  you  that  honour  that  I 
left  her  as  sweet  and  innocent  a  child  as  when  I 
first  knew  her." 

"  And  yet  you  came  from  her  bed-chamber  even 
now,  and  you  kissed  her  at  midnight?  " 

"  'Twas  five  years  since,  sir." 

"  Do  you  love  this  man,  Anne?  " 

"  More  than  heaven  itself! "  she  answered, 
stepping  to  his  side. 

"  And  you  came  to  take  her  away,  sir,  like  a 
thief  in  the  night?  "  sneered  the  marquis,  his  colour 
coming  back  as  he  mastered  his  surprise  and  re 
gained  a  portion  of  his  self-command. 

"  We  had  gone,  sir,  a  moment  since."  broke  in 
Grafton  ruthlessly,  irritated  by  the  sneer,  "  had  we 
not  been  interrupted." 

286 


Grafton  Wins  and  Loses 

"  Mon  Dieu,  'tis  impossible  you  can  love  this 
Englishman,  Anne!  " 

"  An  American,  sir " 

"  Peace!  'Tis  all  one.  This  officer,  this  enemy 
of  France,  this  commoner!  " 

"  Yes,"  murmured  the  girl. 

"  You  love  him  more  than  family,  than  country, 
than  rank,  than  station,  than  honour?  " 

"  More  than  all  the  world,  monsieur." 

"  And  you  were  here  alone  with  him  at  mid 
night  in  this  tower?  He  kissed  you?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  but  I  was  only  a  child." 

"  You  nursed  him  in  sickness  in  Canada?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur." 

"  Were  you  about  to  fly  with  him  this  evening, 
as  he  says?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  he  came  from  your  bed-chamber!  Oh, 
mon  Dieu,  mon  Dieu!  "  screamed  the  old  man,  pas 
sion,  despair,  wounded  pride,  quenched  ambition, 
frantic  rage  in  his  voice.  "  The  deep  dishonour  of 
it!  This  from  my  grand-daughter,  this  from  a  child 
of  my  ancient  house!  An  innocence  gone,  a  repu 
tation  blasted,  a  character  compromised!  " 

"S'death,  sir!"  burst  out  Grafton.  "Speak 
you  thus  to  your  own?  She  is  as  pure  as  an  angel 
from  heaven!  As  I  live,  were  you  not  her  grand- 
sire,  and  an  old  man,  I'd  strike  you  down!  " 

"  And  I  thought  her,"  raged  the  old  man,  con 
temptuously  disregarding  him,  "  like  Caesar's  wife, 
above  suspicion.  Monsieur,  you  have  betrayed  my 
trust,  you  have  violated  my  sacred  hospitality,  you 

287 


The  guiberon  Touch 

have  compromised  my  grandchild  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  you  have  well-nigh  ruined  my  house.  You 
belong  to  a  race  I  have  loathed  and  hated.  This 
old  arm,  withered  as  you  see,  has  used  up  its 
strength  in  striking  blows  upon  your  people.  I 
would  fain  have  your  life,  monsieur,"  he  continued 
sternly.  "  Nay,  I  shall  have  it  presently;  but  before 
you  die  you  must  cover  your  actions  before  God 
and  man,  with  the  sanction,  the  poor  sanction  of 
your  dishonourable  name." 

"  Monsieur,"  cried  Grafton  in  amazement, 
"  what  mean  you?  " 

"  Grandfather,"  interrupted  Anne,  "  I  am  inno 
cent  of  everything  except  loving  Monsieur  Grafton. 
That  I  can  not  help.  I  swear  to  you  that  I  am — 
as  I  was — when  you  first  took  me  in  your  arms — 
except  for  love." 

"  By  Heaven,  sir,"  exclaimed  Grafton,  "  are 
you  mad?  Can  you  not  see?  " 

"  Silence!  "  said  the  old  man.  "  There  must  be 
a  wedding  here  this  night.  Things  are  permitted  a 
husband  which  are  denied  a  lover — wedlock  covers 
all.  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan,  you  must  marry  this 
man." 

"  'Tis  the  dearest  wish  of  my  heart,  sir,"  cried 
Anne. 

"  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  said  Philip  bewildered, 
"what  mean  you?  Do  you  consent  to  my  suit, 
then?  Heavens!  'Tis  impossible!  " 

"  Consent?  No,  monsieur,  I  demand  of  you, 
nay,  I  order,  I  command  you,  if  there  be  a  vestige  of 
honour  left  in  you,  that  you  marry  this  misguided 

288 


Grafton  Wins  and  Loses 

girl,  that  you  rehabilitate  her  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world." 

"  The  world  knows  nothing,  and  there  is  noth 
ing  to  know,  sir." 

"  In  my  eyes,  then." 

It  was  a  puzzling  situation.  Philip  longed  for 
nothing  so  much  as  to  call  Anne  de  Rohan  his  wife, 
yet  apparently  by  consenting  to  this  ceremony  he 
would  be  putting  some  sort  of  a  stigma  upon  her 
honour  or  her  reputation. 

"  I  can  not,  monsieur,  upon  this  compulsion," 
he  faltered  hesitatingly. 

"  Philip!  "  cried  Anne,  who  saw  nothing  of  what 
was  passing  in  his  mind  and  who  heard  only  his  re 
fusal,  his  denial  of  her.  "  You  refuse  me?  You  be 
tray  my  heart?  Ah,  that  woman  in  the  locket!  Oh, 
mon  Dieu,  mon  grand-pere,  kill  me,  kill  me!  He 
loves  me  not,  I  am  rejected!  " 

She  nearly  fainted  with  the  shock  and  the  agony 
of  the  moment. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  old  marquis,  his  eyes 
gleaming  with  anger  and  determination,  "  will  you 
marry  this  girl?  Think  well  before  you  refuse,  sir. 
The  hand  of  a  de  Rohan  has  been  offered  twice  to 
no  one  before.  Say  No,  and  I  kill  her  before  your 
eyes,  and  you  shall  follow  her  to  death.  We  may 
wash  out  the  stain  upon  our  honour  in  blood,  per 
haps,  if  not  in  marriage." 

"Enough!"  cried  Philip,  thinking  swiftly  of 
the  end  to  be  gained  and  putting  everything-  else 
aside.  "  I  take  her  gladly,  joyfully,  thankfully;  not 
from  any  threat  of  yours,  old  man,  but  because  I 

289 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

love  her,  and  by  giving  her  my  name  I  will  have  the 
right  to  protect  her  from  further  insult  even  from 
you." 

"  Without,  there!  "  called  the  marquis,  stepping 
to  the  hall.  "  Ask  Monseigneur  the  Archbishop  of 
Vannes  to  come  hither  instantly.  He  has  not  yet 
left  the  castle.  Speak  to  your  prospective  wife, 
monsieur,  if  you  will,  while  we  wait.  I  can  prom 
ise  you  no  further  opportunities  after  you  are  mar 
ried,"  continued  the  old  man,  turning  to  the  door. 

It  was  the  one  touch  of  human  kindness  he  had 
exhibited  in  the  whole  interview. 

"  Why  did  you  hesitate,  Philip? "  whispered 
the  girl  reproachfully,  as  she  looked  fondly  at  him. 
"  You  refused  me.  You  almost  broke  my  heart. 
To  lose  you  now  would  kill  me." 

"  Only  because  I  seemed  to  be  putting  a  stigma 
upon  you  by  consenting,"  he  said  softly  in  reply. 
"  Your  grandfather  thinks  that  your  honour — for-, 
give  my  saying  it — demands  our  marriage." 

"  What  matter  his  thoughts?    We  know." 

"  Yes,  and  I  was  a  fool.  You  will  be  my  wife, 
my  own,  in  one  moment.  You  can  go  away  with 
me  with  a  clear  conscience  then.  And  when  you  are 
mine  let  me  see  the  man  who  will  dare  question 
aught!" 

"  O  Philip,  I  am  so  happy!  Tis  like  life  from 
death.  I  thought  you  lost,  and  now " 

The  archbishop  at  that  moment  appeared  in  the 
doorway  attended  by  Jean-Renaud. 

"  You  sent  for  me,  my  dear  marquis?  "  he  said 
blandly,  but  in  great  surprise. 

290 


Grafton  Wins  and  Loses 

"  I  did,  monseigneur." 

"  And  for  what  purpose,  pray?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  solemnize  a  marriage,  that  of 
my  grand-daughter  and  this — this — gentleman." 

"What,  monsieur!" 

"  And  now,  too." 

"  But,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  did  you  not  say  she 
was  betrothed  to  the  Count  de  Kersaint?  " 

"  Monseigneur,"  answered  the  marquis  haugh 
tily,  "  here  is  a  strange  mischance.  I  can  not  tell  the 
tale,  but  the  honour  of  my  house  requires  a  mar 
riage,  now  and  instantly,  between  this  young  man 
and  the  Countess  Anne  de  Rohan.  I  jest  not, 
monseigneur.  Morbleul  do  I  look  like  a  man  who 
trifles?  You  have  known  me  of  old,  mojst  reverend 
sir,  I  mean  what  I  say.  The  marriage  must  take 
place!" 

"  But  Monsieur  de  Kersaint?  " 

"  God  help  him  when  he  knows  the  truth!  "  said 
the  marquis.  "  Will  you  proceed,  monseigneur?  " 

"  The  young  man  is  of  our  faith?  " 

"  No,  monseigneur,"  answered  Grafton.  "  I  am 
a  Protestant." 

"  But  you  can  dispense  with  that  yourself,  mon 
seigneur,"  interrupted  the  marquis  promptly.  "  I 
tell  you  nothing  shall  prevent  this." 

"  If  the  young  man  consents  to Will  you 

bring  up  the  children  of  this  union,  should  any  be 
born  to  you,  in  the  faith  of  the  Holy  Roman  Catho 
lic  Church,  monsieur?  "  asked  the  prelate. 

"  I  will,  so  help  me  God,"  answered  Philip 
promptly. 

291 


The  guiberon  Touch 

"  There  will  be  no  children,"  interrupted  the 
marquis  grimly.  "  Will  you  now  proceed?  " 

"  But  we  lack  an  altar,  vestments,  lights,  attend 
ants,  witnesses,  marquis?  " 

"  No  altar  is  needed  here,  and  as  for  witnesses,  I 
am  one,  Josette  is  another,  and  if  you  want  a  third, 
here  'is  Jean-Renaud — people  upon  whom  I  can 
rely." 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  the  perplexed  archbish 
op,  turning  to  Anne,  "  do  you  wish  to  marry  this 
man?  " 

"  Yes,  monseigneur." 

"  Do  you  love  him?  " 

"  With  all  my  heart." 

"  And  you,  monsieur?  "  he  continued,  looking  at 
Grafton. 

"  My  love  and  desire,  most  reverend  sir,  more 
than  match  her  own,  yet  I  must  say,  I  protest  that 
this  hasty  marriage  implies  no  doubt  upon  the  hon 
our  of  the  lady  who  takes  my  name." 

"  Hell  and  furies!  "  cried  the  marquis  inconsist 
ently,  "who  dares  to  imply  such  a  thing!  Mon 
seigneur,  will  you  proceed,  or  shall  I  kill  this  man 
before  your  eyes?  " 

The  brief  words  which  mean  so  much  and  bind 
so  fast  were  soon  spoken.  Philip  and  Anne  made 
the  responses,  and  kneeling  before  the  aged  cleric 
received  his  benediction.  As  soon  as  he  had  fin 
ished,  the  archbishop,  realizing  that  here  was  a  deli 
cate  situation,  discreetly  withdrew  and  left  the  par 
ticipants  in  this  strange  wedding  alone  once  more. 
As  they  rose  to  their  feet  the  Englishman  turned  to 

292 


Grafton  Wins  and  Loses 

the  woman,  all  his  thoughts  swept  away  in  the 
knowledge  that  at  last  she  was  his  wife. 

"  My  own,  my  own!  "  he  cried,  taking  her  in  his 
arms.  But  before  he  could  press  one  kiss  upon  her 
forehead  the  marquis  intervened. 

"  No,  sir,"  he  cried,  "  you  have  dishonoured  the 
house  of  Rohan.  You  have  made  what  amends  you 
could  by  marrying  the  girl.  That  is  all.  You  shall 
never  see  your  wife  again.  I  shall  kill  you  where 
you  stand.  The  connection  shall  end  that  way. 
Draw,  sir!  "  cried  the  old  man,  shaking  his  blade  in 
the  other's  face.  "  Defend  yourself,  if  you  can." 

"  I  will  not  cross  swords  with  a  man  old  enough 
to  be  my  grandfather,"  answered  Grafton — "  one 
who  stands  in  such  a  relationship  as  you  to  the  lady 
I  am  happy  to  call  my  wife.  By  your  consent,  by 
your  urging,  we  were  married.  She  is  mine  before 
Heaven  itself.  No  man  may  part  her  from  me.  She 
goes  with  me." 

"  How  will  you  take  her  hence,  pray?  " 

"  By  this  window,  through  which  I  came,"  cried 
Grafton,  lifting  up  his  wife  in  his  arms  and  spring 
ing  backward. 

"  A  moil  "  called  the  marquis  loudly. 

The  servants  came  running  into  the  room  in  re 
sponse  to  this  call. 

"Ha!"  cried  the  marquis.  "The  Baron  de 
Croisic's  way!  'Tis  his  tower.  You  shall  end  like 
the  lover  of  the  fair  Jehane.  Jean-Renaud,  seize  this 
man." 

Jean-Renaud  stepped  forward  slowly.  His  af 
fections  were  with  his  young  mistress,  and  he  secret- 

293 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

ly  admired  the  gallant  Englishman  who  had  won 
her,  yet  his  duty  bade  him  obey  the  marquis. 

"  Back!  "  cried  Grafton,  whipping  out  his  pistol 
and  pointing  it  at  Jean-Renaud.  "  A  step  nearer 
and  you  are  a  dead  man." 

The  man  stopped  short;  he  knew  decision  when 
he  met  it. 

( 'Tis  true  you  have  the  advantage,  Monsieur  le 
Marquis.  I  can  not  take  Madame  Grafton  away 
from  you  to-night,  alone  as  I  am,  but  be  very  cer 
tain  that  I  will  come  back  for  her  with  force  that 
can  not  be  denied.  I  shall  have  her  if  I  have  to 
tear  down  the  castle  stone  by  stone.  Take  good 
care  of  madame,  sir,"  Grafton  continued  insolently, 
"  I  leave  her  in  your  charge.  Back,  you  cattle!  " 
he  cried,  swinging  his  pistol  toward  the  servants 
and  lackeys,  who  were  huddled  together  in  the  rear 
of  Jean-Renaud.  "  Anne,  wife,  farewell!  " 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  marquis,  striving  to  regain 
his  wonted  calmness,  "  you  may  storm  the  castle  if 
you  will.  You  will  not  find  madame  here.  When 
the  French  fleet  sails  in  the  morning  we  go  with  her. 
Now,  men,  upon  him!  " 

Grafton  discharged  his  pistol  at  the  nearest  valet, 
and  as  the  man  fell  he  hurled  the  empty  weapon  into 
the  midst  of  the  rest.  With  one  look  at  Anne  he 
turned  and  sprang  through  the  oriel  window.  He 
grasped  the  rope  and  slid  down  it  rapidly. 

The  men  surged  toward  the  balcony.  Anne 
sprang  between  them.  She  caught  the  marquis  by 
the  arm  and  Josette  seized  Jean-Renaud,  but  the  rest 
swarmed  past  them  and  filled  the  balcony.  One  of 

294 


Grafton  Wins  and  Loses 

the  men  lifted  a  dagger  to  cut  the  rope.  A  deaf 
ening  roar  rang  out  in  the  night;  the  man  screamed 
with  pain  and  his  arm  dropped  to  his  side.  Another 
shot  was  heard.  The  crowd  shrank  back  for  a  few 
seconds  and  Grafton  reached  the  foot  of  the  tower. 
He  scrambled  down  the  rocks  to  find  old  Jabez, 
smoking  musket  in  his  hand,  waiting  for  him  in 
the  prow  of  the  boat. 

"  Who  fired?  "  he  cried. 

"  'Twas  me,  yer  Honour;  I  was  a-watchin'  the 
winder.  I  seen  yer  Honour  come  out,  then  I  seen 
the  man  raise  the  knife,  an'  I  blazed  away  at  him. 
I  hain't  forgot  how  to  shoot  nuther." 

"  You  saved  me,"  cried  Grafton.  "  Shove  off  the 
boat.  Lively!  Break  out  the  oars;  we  must  get 
away." 

Slocum  sprang  to  the  oars  and  Grafton  seized 
the  tiller.  The  balcony  above  was  filled  with  men 
now.  The  old  marquis  was  there,  and  Anne — his 
wife.  He  could  spare  only  a  second  for  a  glance. 
The  light  from  blazing  torches  threw  a  dim  illumi 
nation  down  upon  the  little  bay.  A  woman 
screamed.  Shots  rang  out,  bullets  spattered  the 
water  all  about  them. 

"  Are  you  hit,  Jabez?  " 

"  No,  sir;  be  you?  " 

"I'm  all  right,  too;  pull,  man,  pull,  for  God's 
sake!" 

Presently  they  were  in  the  entrance  and  out  of 
danger.  The  wind  was  blowing  offshore.  The 
night  was  mild  and  pleasant  now.  The  moon  was 
shining.  They  easily  threaded  their  way  among  the 

295 


The  (Quiberon  Touch 

rocks.  The  mast  was  stepped,  the  sail  set,  and  the 
little  boat  raced  out  to  sea.  They  were  away,  -they 
were  free. 

"  Beg  parding,  sir,  did  you  git  wot  you  went 
fer?  "  asked  Jabez,  after  a  while. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Grafton.  "  The  French  ships 
are  to  sail  for  Quiberon  Bay  at  six  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

"  An'  the  leddy,  sir?  " 

"  I  married  her." 

"  Good  Lord!  "  exclaimed  the  old  man  under  his 
breath.  "  Quick  work,  that!  An'  you  left  your 
wife?  " 

"  With  her  grandfather,  Slocum.  She  sails  on 
Le  Thesee  with  the  fleet  in  the  morning.  Not  a 
word  of  this  to  the  men,  as  you  value  my  approval. 
You  have  done  well  and  I  shall  not  forget  it." 

"Thank  Heaven,  you  have  come!"  exclaimed 
Hatfield,  as  the  dinghy  swept  alongside  the  gang 
way  of  the  Maidstone  and  Grafton  clambered  on 
board.  "  I  had  almost  given  you  up." 

"  What  time  is  it?  "  asked  the  captain. 

Before  Hatfield  could  answer  eight  bells  rang 
out  forward  on  the  forecastle. 

"  In  the  very  nick  of  time!  "  exclaimed  Grafton. 

"  Look  yonder,  sir,"  said  the  lieutenant,  point 
ing  away. 

The  ships  in  the  harbour  were  ablaze  with  lights. 
They  were  getting  under  way. 

"  Ay,"  said  Grafton,  "  they  are  leaving  this 
morning,  now.  The  wind  has  changed.  They  are 
going  to  Quiberon.  Square  away  immediately,  and 

296 


Grafton  Wins  and  Loses 

crack  everything  on.  We  must  get  the  news  to  Sir 
Edward  before  night." 

"  And  the  lady?  "  queried  Hatfield.  "  Did  you 
see  her?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Grafton,  smiling,  "  I  not  only 
saw  her,  but  I  married  her.  Come  into  the  cabin 
after  you  are  on  the  course  and  I  will  tell  you  all 
about  it." 


20 


297 


BOOK  VI 

"  THE  GREA  T  LORD  HA  WKE  " 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

THE  ADMIRAL  GETS  THE  NEWS 

IT  was  early  in  the  morning  of  the  fourteenth 
day  of  November,  1759.  The  Maidstone  was  gen 
tly  swinging  into  Torbay.  The  wind,  which  had 
been  blowing  hard  from  the  southwest  during  the 
night,  had  moderated  until  it  was  now  a  gentle 
breeze,  so  that  every  cloth  of  canvas,  including  her 
studding-sails,  was  spread  on  the  frigate  to  catch 
and  hold  the  light  air.  Grafton  and  Hatfield  stood 
on  the  weather  side  of  the  quarter-deck  eagerly  sur 
veying  the  roadstead. 

The  harbour  was  crowded  with  great  ships  of 
the  line,  huge  monsters,  swinging  to  their  anchors, 
prows  pointed  out  to  sea  under  the  incoming  tide, 
now  at  full  flood.  The  one  nearest  to  the  Maid- 
stone,  and  consequently  the  farthest  from  the  shore, 
was  a  magnificent  vessel  of  three  decks,  carrying 
one  hundred  guns.  From  her  main-masthead  a 
small  blue  flag  could  be  seen  fluttering,  which  de 
noted  the  rank  of  the  commander  of  the  fleet,  a  full 
admiral. 

The  different  ships  of  this  great  armada  with 
298 


The  Admiral  gets  the  News 

nice  seamanship  had  been  anchored  in  their  ap 
pointed  places,  and  all  were  in  beautiful  order.  Their 
sails  were  furled  with  the  taut  smoothness  of  a  glove 
on  a  lady's  hand,  and  their  ponderous  yards  squared 
with  geometrical  accuracy.  Their  complicated 
tracery  of  rigging  and  running  gear,  tautened  with 
mathematical  nicety  and  soaring  aloft  from  the  mass 
of  black  and  heavy  shrouds  and  swifters,  springing 
from  top,  cross-tree,  and  yard-arm,  in  ever-refining 
and  more  delicate  lines,  rose  higher  and  higher  until 
it  was  focused  upon  the  truck-ends  of  the  slender 
skysail  poles,  which  terminated  the  ponderous  and 
towering  spars. 

Though  weather-beaten  and  storm-worn  they 
seemed  fit  for  any  emergency.  Like  the  veterans  of 
an  army,  they  were  ready  for  any  demand  which 
could  be  made  upon  them,  and  they  looked  it. 
There  was  a  sense  of  use,  of  habit,  of  action,  of 
power,  conveyed  in  their  stately  repose  on  the  unruf 
fled  surface  of  the  water  that  morning,  which  filled 
the  young  men,  who  were  contemplating  them,  with 
pride  and  delight. 

Forward  on  the  Maidstone  the  foreroyal-hal- 
liards  had  been  settled  away  as  she  drew  up  the 
roads,  and  her  number  had  been  made  at  the  fore- 
royal-masthead.  When  it  had  been  acknowledged 
on  the  flag-ship,  the  latter  had  signalled  for  the  frig 
ate  to  anchor  under  her  lee.  On  account  of  the 
position  of  the  admiral's  ship,  the  Royal  George, 
well  in  advance  of  the  rest  of  the  squadron,  there 
was  ample  room  for  Grafton  to  come  boldly  in  head 
on,  with  all  standing,  sweep  to  port,  and  make  his 

299 


The  £)iiiberon  Touch 

anchorage  without  interfering  with  any  other  ship 
in  the  fleet. 

This  was  an  operation,  however,  which  required 
nicety  in  judgment,  accuracy  in  decision,  celerity 
in  action,  and  perfection  in  drill  and  discipline  in 
order  that  it  should  be  performed  well;  and  it 
should  be  well  done  or  should  not  be  attempted  at 
all.  The  eyes  of  the  whole  fleet  were  already  fast 
ened  on  the  frigate.  Her  number  had  been  as  easily 
read  by  the  signal  officers  of  the  other  ships  as  on 
the  Royal  George,  and  it  was  well  known  to  every 
one  that  she  had  been  with  Saunders'  fleet  off  Que 
bec.  No  tidings  had  as  yet  reached  this  fleet  from 
that  far-off  quarter,  although  they  had  been  eagerly 
expected.  Naturally,  it  was  supposed  that  the 
Maidstone  had  news  of  importance  to  communicate. 

Grafton  felt  that  he  would  be  narrowly  watched 
and  critically  observed  by  everybody,  and  he  deter 
mined  to  do  the  thing  up  smartly  and  with  precision. 
The  hard  cruising  of  the  past  month,  to  say  nothing 
of  their  varied  experiences  since  setting  forth  on 
the  Quebec  campaign,  had  turned  his  men  into  as 
fine  a  body  of  seamen  as  could  be  found  then  on  any 
ship  afloat.  Hatfield  was  a  brilliant  subordinate 
who  could  be  depended  upon  entirely,  and  the  other 
officers  were  men  capable  in  their  several  stations 
as  well. 

"  Now,  Hatfield,"  said  Grafton,  "  I  am  going  in 
with  everything  standing.  We'll  pass  the  admiral, 
sweep  to  port,  and  drop  anchor  on  the  port  side  of  the 
flag-ship,  just  where  he  wants  us.  I'm  going  to  take 
in  everything  together,  and  I  want  the  thing  done 

300 


The  Admiral  gets  the  News 

smartly.  Everybody  in  the  fleet  will  be  looking  at 
us,  of  course.  Pass  the  word  forward  that  the  eyes 
of  the  fleet  are  on  us,  and  that  I  want  the  men  to 
show  that  the  Maidstone  is  up  to  anything.  Not 
a  sound  is  to  be  made  either,  and  no  action  taken, 
save  the  necessary  movements  about  the  decks. 
There  must  be  no  cheering,  and  let  no  man  show  his 
head  above  the  rail  till  I  give  the  order.  Pass  the 
word,  too,  that  there  will  be  an  extra  tot  of  grog 
served  out  when  the  hammocks  are  piped  down,  if 
we  do  these  things  handsomely.  Who  is  at  the 
wheel?  " 

"  Slocum,  sir." 

"  That's  well.  See  that  some  reliable  hands 
stand  by  the  starboard  anchor  also.  Now  go  for 
ward  yourself  and  give  everything  on  the  forecastle 
your  personal  supervision.  I  don't  want  any  hitch 
of  any  kind  to  occur.  Get  the  men  to  their  stations 
for  shortening  sail  promptly." 

While  the  little  colloquy  had  been  going  on, 
the  frigate,  with  everything  drawing,  was  gliding 
along  at  a  rapid  rate,  dipping  and  swaying  gracefully 
like  a  woman  courtesying  at  a  ball.  They  had 
drawn  near  enough  now  to  the  ship  of  the  line  to 
discern  a  group  of  officers  attentively  regarding 
them  from  the  high  poop-deck.  Among  them,  in 
front  of  the  rest,  in  fact,  was  a  stout,  heavy-set  figure, 
in  whom  Grafton  recognised  the  great  commander. 

The  Maidstone  made  a  superb  picture  from  the 
flag-ship.  There  was  just  wind  enough  to  fill  every 
sail  rap  full,  and  she  slipped  easily  through  the  wa 
ter,  rocking  and  pitching  as  gently,  as  noiselessly,  as 

301 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

a  summer  cloud  driven  across  the  sky  by  scarce-felt 
breezes.  They  were  drawing  nearer  to  the  Royal 
George  with  every  moment,  though  still  far  from 
her.  Now  they  were  lapping  her  headbooms,  now 
they  were  abreast  of  the  forecastle.  It  was  time. 

"  Stand  by  to  take  in  the  light  sails  and  the  fore 
sail!  Man  the  royal  and  to'gallant  clewlines,  the 
flying  jib,  and  stuns'l  downhauls; '  overhaul  the 
sheets  and  halliards!  Man  the  fore  clew-garnets 
and  buntlines!  " 

There  was  a  moment  or  two  of  bewildering  con 
fusion — or  so  an  onlooker  would  have  concluded — 
as  the  men  sprang  to  their  respective  stations.  The 
gear  was  thrown  from  the  pins  and  led  along  the 
decks  by  the  crowding  men,  the  coiled  sheets 
and  halliards  were  got  ready  for  running,  and  all 
preparations  made.  Then  there  was  silence  for  a 
space. 

Grafton  lifted  his  hand. 

"  Stand  by!  "  he  cried.  "  Haul  taut!  Shorten 
sail!" 

He  spoke  in  a  low,  clear  voice,  which  was  yet 
distinctly  audible  throughout  his  ship.  As  the 
words  fell  from  his  lips  the  boatswain's  mates  piped 
shrilly,  the  men  on  the  decks  made  a  clean  run  with 
the  clewlines  and  downhauls,  the  sheets  were  eased 
off,  the  halliards  settled  away,  the  yards  carne  down, 
the  studding-sails  were  dropped  from  the  yards,  the 
booms  were  rigged  in,  and  in  a  trice  the  light  can 
vas  was  left  hanging  in  graceful  festoons  from  the 
yard-arms.  It  had  been  done  beautifully,  and  the 
ship  had  been  stripped  so  far  as  if  by  magic.  Silence 

302 


The  Admiral  gets  the  News 

supervened  again  after  the  men  had  cleared  the 
decks  for  the  next  evolution. 

"Starboard  the  helm!"  said  Grafton.  "Man 
the  tops'l,  clewlines,  and  buntlines!  Jib  downhaul, 
the  spanker  outhaul!  Hands  by  the  tops'l  sheets 
and  halliards!  Haul  taut!  Let  go  the'tops'l  sheets! 
Clew  up!  Down  jib!  Out  with  the  spanker!  Hard- 
a-starboard!  " 

As  this  rapid  succession  of  bewildering  orders 
were  carried  out,  like  a  great  bird  the  ship  swept 
gracefully  up  into  the  wind.  Presently,  as  she  head 
ed  for  the  flag-ship  still  sweeping  to  port,  the  top 
sails  shivered  in  the  breeze;  with  nothing  drawing 
her  way  was  already  greatly  checked,  she  was  almost 
at  a  standstill,  though  she  was  still  swinging  around 
in  that  long,  graceful  curve. 

"  Settle  away  the  tops'l  halliards!  Clew  down!  " 
shouted  Grafton.  "  Round  in  the  braces!  " 

She  had  swung  farther  now.  Her  broadside 
was  opening  toward  the  flag-ship.  Her  way  was  al 
most  checked.  Her  headbooms  were  overreach 
ing  the  quarter  of  the  other  vessel,  she  was  quite  in 
the  designated  position  now. 

"  Right  the  helm!  Stand  by  the  starboard  an 
chor!  Man  the  spanker  brails!  Let  go  the  star 
board  anchor!  Brail  in!  " 

With  a  mighty  plunge  the  great  anchor  dropped 
into  the  still  waters  of  the  bay.  The  hempen  cable 
rushed  through  the  hawse-pipes,  the  ship  surged 
slowly  ahead  a  moment,  and  then,  her  way  checked 
by  the  pull  of  the  cable  and  the  flooding  tide  as  well, 
she  stopped,  settled  back,  and  slowly  dropped 

303 


The  guiberon  Touch 

astern,  where  she  swung  to  the  full  scope  of  the 
cable.  She  had  come  to  rest  exactly  where  she 
should  be.  It  could  not  have  been  more  deftly  done 
if  she  had  been  picked  up  and  set  down  in  the  desig 
nated  spot. 

"  All  hands  furl  sail!  Lay  aloft,  topmen!  "  called 
out  Grafton,  a  note  of  triumph  in  his  voice. 

In  an  instant  the  shrouds  of  his  frigate  were 
black  with  men  swarming  aloft,  the  light  yard  men, 
of  course,  in  the  lead.  With  nimble  feet  they  ran 
up  the  shaking  rigging,  laid  out  on  the  broad  yard- 
arms,  and  began  to  roll  up  the  drooping  canvas. 

Old  Hawke  lifted  and  waved  his  hand  toward 
the  frigate,  and,  as  if  it  had  been  a  signal,  a  thousand 
throats  on  his  own  ship  sent  forth  a  ringing  cheer  of 
acknowledgment  and  greeting. 

The  men  had  been  watching  the  movements  of 
the  Maidstone  with  intense  interest  and  apprecia 
tion.  They  knew  good  seamanship  when  they  saw 
it.  Hawke  was  a  thorough  sailor  and  would  toler 
ate  no  one  who  was  not,  in  any  ship  or  fleet  he  com 
manded.  Grafton's  heart  swelled  with  pride  and 
pleasure  as  he  lifted  his  hat  and  waved  it  toward  his 
generous  superior  in  grateful  acknowledgment. 
And,  indeed,  never  had  a  delicate  manoeuvre  been 
more  gracefully  and  smartly  performed. 

As  soon  as  the  men,  who  had  finished  their  du 
ties  most  expeditiously,  had  laid  down  from  aloft, 
and  had  begun  to  square  yards  and  clear  up  the  gear, 
Grafton  directed  his  gig  to  be  called  away,  and  tem 
porarily  relinquishing  the  charge  of  the  ship  to  Hat- 
field,  he  repaired  on  board  the  flag-ship.  He  was 

304 


The  Admiral  gets  the  News 

met  at  the  gangway  of  the  latter  vessel  by  Captain 
John  Campbell,  her  commander,  and  was  at  once 
escorted  to  the  quarter-deck,  whither  Hawke,  at 
tended  by  his  staff,  had  descended  to  meet  him. 

The  young  officer  found  himself  in  the  presence 
of  a  commanding-looking  man  well  along  in  years; 
indeed,  he  had  just  turned  fifty-four.  His  huge 
form  was  clothed  in  the  recently  prescribed  blue- 
and-white  uniform,  heavily  laced,  as  became  his  ex 
alted  rank,  which  was  that  of  a  full  admiral  of  the 
blue.  He  wore  no  sword,  and  a  blue  boat-cloak  was 
carelessly  thrown  about  him,  for  the  morning  was 
chill.  A  laced  cocked  hat  covered  his  carefully  pow 
dered  hair. 

He  was  of  middle  stature  and  very  stoutly  built, 
inclining,  indeed,  to  fatness,  with  huge  unshapely 
legs  and  a  stomach  which  might  have  done  justice 
to  the  typical  alderman.  In  spite  of  his  avoirdupois, 
however,  he  carried  himself  easily  and  well,  and 
these  somewhat  unpromising  externals  were  forgot 
ten  when  a  glance  at  his  face  was  had. 

His  complexion  had  evidently  been  fair  and 
bright  originally,  although  the  wind  and  sun  had 
modified  its  native  hue.  His  skin,  too,  was  singu 
larly  smooth  and  clear  for  a  man  who  had  spent  most 
of  his  life  at  sea,  and  entirely  lacked  the  tough,  leath 
ery,  weather-beaten  aspect  which  was  more  conso 
nant  with  his  profession. 

His  brow  was  broad  and  high;  his  eyes  were  of 
deep  and  intense  blue,  and  set  beneath  heavy  eye 
brows.  His  nose  was  hooked  like  an  eagle's  beak 
and  sharply  cut,  with  thin,  well-formed  nostrils.  Be- 

305 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

neath  his  short  upper  lip  extended  a  mouth  which 
showed  strength  and  determination  in  every  line. 
Indeed,  high  personal  dignity,  stern  impartiality,  and 
inflexible  firmness,  blended  together  with  indomita 
ble  resolution,  were  apparent  in  his  handsome  aris 
tocratic  face,  even  to  the  most  casual  observer. 

Here  was  a  man  who  had  that  indefinable  stamp 
upon  his  countenance  which  marked  him  as  a  leader 
of  men;  who  exhibited  that  aspect  which  we  see 
presented  in  all  the  portraits,  imaginary  and  ideal, 
of  those  who  in  their  allotted  span  and  sphere  have 
controlled  forces,  shaped  events,  and  determined 
ends  in  this  world's  history.  The  subtle  self-confi 
dence,  which  only  real  and  true  greatness  renders 
tolerable,  and  which  always  goes  before  successful 
achievement,  was  there  too.  It  was  present,  in  fact, 
in  contagious  force.  Men  looked  to  him  and  took 
courage.  In  his  own  confidence,  they  found  assur 
ance  to  carry  out  his  bold  and  splendid  plans. 

Here  was  a  man  to  be  trusted;  a  kindly  man 
and  a  just  too,  in  spite  of  his  imperious  sternness, 
and  a  man  great  enough  to  condescend  to  details 
which  a  nature  less  large  would  have  considered 
petty  and  inconsequent.  For  instance,  he  was  wise 
enough  to  look  after  the  welfare  of  his  men,  their 
health,  provisions,  and  other  supplies,  with  the  same 
zeal  and  persistence  that  he  would  pursue  an  enemy; 
and  he  was  strong  enough  to  have  his  way  in  bring 
ing  about  their  well-being,  in  spite  of  knavish  con 
tractors  and  inefficient  administrators. 

He  was  a  man  loved  by  the  upright  and  feared 
by  the  evil.  Unsparing  in  exacting  services,  gener- 

306 


The  Admiral  gets  the  News 

ous  in  awarding  praise,  prompt  in  rewarding  merit, 
but  infinitely  stern  and  unbending  toward  laziness 
or  weakness,  and  ruthless  in  allotting  blame  to  the 
inefficient,  he  was  a  leader  whose  qualities  had  at 
tached  to  his  command  the  best  seamen  in  Eng 
land. 

As  Grafton  saluted  him  the  admiral  recognised 
the  young  man  who  had  sailed  with  him  in  other 
days,  and  his  face  lighted  up  with  a  kindly  smile. 
After  ceremoniously  acknowledging  the  salute — for 
it  was  a  day  in  which  etiquette  ruled  intercourse, 
especially  in  the  service — he  extended  his  hand. 

"  Ah,  Grafton,"  he  said  in  a  deep  voice,  which 
well  accorded  with  his  stout  person,  "  I  am  glad  to 
see  you  again ;  and  let  me  tell  you  I  never  saw  a  ship 
brought  to  in  better  shape  than  that  one.  'Twas  a 
smart  piece  of  seamanship  and  handsomely  done. 
I  hope  our  young  gentlemen  marked  it,  Campbell. 
Now,  sir,  we  are  brimful  of  curiosity  to  know  your 
errand.  Eh,  captain?  My  young  friends  here  have 
been  fairly  thirsting  to  hear  your  tidings.  What 
news?  " 

"  Despatches,  Sir  Edward,  from  Vice-Admiral 
Saunders.  Here  they  are,  sir." 

"  And  how  is  my  old  friend?  "  exclaimed  the  ad 
miral,  taking  the  packet. 

"  Well,  sir." 

"  And  that  bold  fire-eater,  young  General 
Wolfe?  He  was  on  my  ship  in  the  Rochefort  ex 
pedition,  and  I " 

"  He  is  dead,  sir,"  interrupted  Grafton  sadly. 

"Dead!    Is  it  possible!    When?    How?" 

307 


The  guiberon  Touch 

"  The  day  we  beat  Montcalm,  Sir  Edward." 

"Ah,  he  was  a  gallant  soul!  Dead!  Poor  fel 
low!" 

"  Yes,  sir.  Shot  in  the  final  charge  that  decided 
the  day  in  our  favour,  and  died  on  the  field  almost 
instantly." 

"  And  Quebec?  " 

"  Is  England's." 

"  Magnificent!  "  cried  Hawke.  "  How  was 
it?" 

In  rapid  words  Grafton  rehearsed  the  story  of 
their  great  exploits  in  the  New  World,  the  officers 
crowding  as  near  to  the  admiral  and  Grafton  as  they 
dared,  to  listen  to  the  stirring  tale. 

"  Mr.  Vernon,"  said  Hawke  to  his  signal  officer, 
when  Grafton  had  finished  his  story,  "  signal  to  the 
fleet  that  Quebec  has  fallen.  'Twill  be  news  they 
will  appreciate.  And  add  that  General  Wolfe  has 
been  killed.  Now  I  shall  go  below  and  look  over 
these  despatches.  You  will  find  many  old  friends 
upon  the  ship,  Grafton,  I  doubt  not,"  he  added, 
turning  away. 

"  Beg  pardon,  Sir  Edward,  but  that's  not  all," 
said  Grafton  hurriedly. 

The  old  man  stopped  short  and  looked  at  him  in 
some  surprise. 

"  What,  sir!  Have  you  more  news  than  is  con 
tained  in  the  despatches?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 
."What  is  it,  pray?" 

"  I   ran   over   to   Brest,   sir,   thinking   to   find 

you " 

308 


The  Admiral  gets  the  News 

"  Ha!  "  exclaimed  the  admiral,  coming  back  to 
ward  him,  deeply  interested  in  this  new  subject. 
"  What  tidings  from  there?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  when  we  saw  you  weren't  there  we 
ran  in  close,  knowing  the  French  couldn't  get  out 
on  account  of  the  strong  westerly  gale,  to  find  out 
what  we  could  about  their  intentions,  and — I  went 
ashore — and — happened  to  be  present,  unobserved, 
of  course,  at  a  banquet  at  which  Monsieur  de  Con- 
flans  and  his  officers  were  the  guests." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  admiral,  his  eyes  sparkling  with 
excitement,  "  did  you  hear  anything?  Did  they  say 
what  they  intended  to  do?  " 

"  They  are  going  out,  sir." 

"  Good!    Did  you  find  out  when?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  heard  de  Conflans  say,  yesterday 
morning,"  answered  Grafton,  "  the  wind  having 
shifted;  but  it  changed  again,  and  came  from  the 
west  once  more,  so  they  have  scarcely  got  to  sea 
yet." 

( 'Tis  news  indeed,  Grafton,  and  of  the  best!  " 
exclaimed  Sir  Edward,  delighted  at  the  prospect. 

"  I  think  they  will  go  out  at  the  first  practicable 
moment,"  answered  Grafton. 

"  I  hope  so.    Did  you  learn  their  destination?  " 

"  Quiberon  Bay,  sir,  where  the  transports  are 
and  d'Aiguillon's  army.  After  that,  Ireland  or  Scot 
land  or  anywhere  they  can  strike." 

"  Glorious  news,  Captain  Grafton!  Once  let  us 
get  at  them  on  the  high  sea  and  they  will  strike  no 
place  but  Davy  Jones'  locker,  I'll  warrant.  Hey, 
gentlemen?  We  were  forced  to  raise  the  blockade 

309 


The  guiberon  Touch 

temporarily  by  the  tremendous  westerly  gale  and  ran 
here  for  safety.  We  got  under  way  yesterday  morn 
ing,  but  were  forced  back  again.  We'll  try  it  again 
this  morning — immediately.  We'll  make  a  fair 
wind  of  a  foul.  Let  me  see,  the  tide  will  turn  in  an 
hour  and  we  can  get  off  then.  Mr.  Vernon,  recall 
all  boats  and  signal  the  captains  to  come  on  board 
the  flag-ship  at  six  bells.  Captain  Campbell,  prepare 
to  trip  at  once.  Let  me  know  when  you  are  up  and 
down.  We'll  have  the  ships  weigh  in  succession 
immediately.  Meanwhile  do  you  come  into  my 
cabin,  Grafton;  I  wish  to  talk  over  the  matter  fur 
ther  with  you." 


310 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

CONFLANS    IS    OUT 

WHEN  Hawke  read  his  despatches  and  learned 
therein  of  Grafton's  services,  with  Saunders'  com 
mendation  of  them  and  his  recommendation,  he 
forthwith  surprised  the  young  American.  The  for 
mer  captain  of  the  Torbay  had  died  a  few  days  be 
fore  and  no  one  had  yet  been  designated  to  com 
mand  her,  fortunately  for  Grafton,  for  Hawke  im 
mediately  appointed  him  to  the  ship.  To  antici 
pate,  it  was  an  appointment  which  met  with  the 
favour  of  the  ship's  crew  and  the  junior  officers, 
with  many  of  whom  Grafton  had  previously  served. 
He  had  been  first  lieutenant  of  the  Torbay,  in  fact, 
in  other  days,  and  he  was  therefore  thoroughly  fa 
miliar  with  the  qualities  of  the  ship.  He  brought 
no  one  with  him  to  his  new  command  save  Jabez 
Slocum. 

While  waiting  for  the  assembling  of  his  captains 
in  the  cabin  of  the  Royal  George,  Hawke  had  sunk 
the  commander  in  the  friend  in  his  intercourse  with 
Grafton.  Indeed,  he  had  always  taken  a  fatherly  in 
terest  in  that  young  sailor.  From  him  he  heard 
again,  and  at  full  length  now,  the  details  of  that  mar 
vellous  Quebec  campaign.  From  him  he  also 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

learned  the  story  of  his  romantic  love  affair.  He 
entered  with  the  zest  of  a  boy  into  the  spirit  of 
the  hardy  and  daring  ascent  of  the  dark  tower 
and  the  exciting  adventures  which  followed 
upon  it. 

"  My  lad,"  he  exclaimed  at  last,  "  if  your  wife  is 
on  the  French  fleet  you  shall  have  her,  by  Heaven, 
if  we  have  to  sink  every  ship  in  the  squadron  until 
we  get  her!  " 

"  I  have  no  doubt  that  she  will  be  with  them,  ad 
miral,"  answered  Grafton.  "  If  I  know  the  Marquis 
de  Chabot-Rohan,  he  is  not  a  man  to  say  things  and 
then  fail  to  do  them.  I  imagine  she  will  be  on  Le 
Thesee.  That  is  the  ship  of  the  Comte  de  Kersaint, 
who  was  betrothed  to  her,  you  know,  before  I — 
married  her." 

He  was  as  yet  so  little  accustomed  to  his  new  re 
lationship  that  he  stumbled  over  the  significant 
word. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  admiral,  "  I  have  heard  that  he  is 
one  of  the  best  seamen  and  officers  in  the  French 
navy." 

"  Tis  true,  sir.  I  can  bear  testimony  to  it.  He 
captured  me  in  the  Boxer  with  this  same  ship  five 
years  ago,  and  I  got  to  know  him  then.  He  knew 
my  father,  too,  and  once  fought  him.  The  Renom- 
me  and  the  Shirley,  you  know.  He's  a  fighter.  But 
if  I  can  get  alongside  of  him  with  the  old  Torbay, 
sir,  I  think  we  can  show  him  a  thing  or  two." 

"  I  know  you  can,"  added  Hawke,  smiling,  "  and 
I  shall  do  my  best  to  help  you  and  give  you  a  chance. 
As  soon  as  we  get  out  of  the  channel  we'll  spread 

312 


Conflans  is  Out 

apart.  I  have  twenty-three  ships  of  the  line  and  two 
frigates  here,  and  we  ought  to  cover  miles  of  the 
horizon.  As  the  wind  is  from  the  eastward  this 
morning,  Conflans  will  probably  get  away  at  the 
same  time  we  do.-  I  intend  to  push  hard  for  Belle- 
isle.  I  can't  afford  to  wait  for  Saunders,  though  'tis 
a  generous  offer  he  makes  me.  By  the  way,"  he  , 
added,  as  a  sudden  thought  struck  him,  "  I  must 
send  a  frigate  out  at  once  to  warn  Duff.  There  is  a 
squadron  of  one  capital  and  four  fifty-gun  ships,  be 
sides  some  frigates,  down  there.  I  hope  'tis  not  too 
late." 

As  the  admiral  reached  over  to  strike  a  bell  on 
the  table,  Grafton  interrupted  him. 

"  Beg  pardon,  Sir  Edward,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I've 
already  taken  the  liberty  of  doing  that." 

"You  have!"  exclaimed  the  admiral  in  aston 
ishment.  "When?  How?" 

"  Why,  sir,  yesterday  afternoon  we  overhauled 
the  frigate  Vengeance,  Captain  Nightingale,  and  I 
told  him  what  I  had  learned,  and  at  my  suggestion 
he  agreed  to  beat  down  for  Quiberon  and  warn 
Commodore  Duff.  I  was  to  come  on  here  and  tell 
you,  and  as  we  were  sure  as  to  your  action,  Night 
ingale  was  to  tell  Duff  that  you'd  be  hard  on  the 
heels  of  Monsieur  de  Conflans." 

"  You  have  done  well,  exceedingly  well,  young 
man." 

"  Yes,  sir,  thank  you,  sir,"  murmured  Grafton. 
"  Trained  in  your  own  school,  sir,  you  know." 

"  Well,  you've  been  an  apt  pupil,  Grafton,  and 
I'm  proud  of  you.  If  you  do  as  well  with  the  Tor- 

31  313 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

bay  you'll  have  a  flag  before  you  know  it.  But  I 
will  send  a  second  messenger  to  make  sure." 

The  admiral  struck  the  bell  on  the  table,  which 
summoned  an  orderly. 

"  My  compliments  to  Captain  Campbell  and  ask 
him  to  summon  Captain  Harrison  of  the  Venus  here 
at  once,"  he  said.  "  No,  don't  go,  Grafton,  I  wish  to 
go  over  this  matter  with  you  again." 

The  next  few  moments  the  two  men  spent  in 
earnest  conversation.  Grafton  told  again  and  again 
what  he  had  learned  in  the  tower,  and  Hawke  stored 
away  the  details  in  his  capacious  memory.  In  a 
short  time  Captain  Harrison  appeared  in  the  cabin. 

"  Ah,  Harrison,  allow  me  to  make 'you  acquaint 
ed  with  Captain  Grafton,  who  is  just  in  from  Quebec 
with  glorious  news!  " 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  Captain  Grafton,"  answered 
Harrison.  "  The  tidings  you  brought  are  indeed 
splendid.  The  whole  fleet  is  alive  with  the  good 
news.  You  can  hear  them  cheering  everywhere,  Sir 
Edward." 

"  Grafton  has  also  informed  me  that  the  French 
are  going  out.  They  propose  to  make  Quiberon  Bay 
at  once,  gobble  up  Duff's  squadron,  embark  their 
troops,  and  then  off  for  Ireland  or  Scotland.  We 
must  stop  that." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Harrison  promptly.  "  But 
do  you  know,  Sir  Edward,  everybody  is  rather  glad 
they're  off.  We'd  like  nothing  better  than  a  chance 
at  them,  and  after  the  weary  months  of  waiting  off 
the  harbour  mouth  anything  is  welcome.  We  re 
joice  over " 

314 


Conflans  is  Out 

The  officer  stopped,  abashed  under  Hawke's 
cold  glance  at  him,  on  account  of  the  indiscreet 
comments  into  which  his  enthusiasm  had  betrayed 
him.  The  admiral  looked  at  him  sternly  for  a  mo 
ment,  as  if  to  reprove  him,  and  then  broke  into 
laughter,  to  Harrison's  great  relief. 

"  Egad!  "  he  said,  "  I  believe  I  am  glad  of  it 
too,  Harrison.  I  want  nothing  better  than  a  chance 
at  them  myself.  Blockading  is  weary  work.  Well, 
perhaps  we  may  get  at  them  now.  By  the  way,  is 
the  Venus  ready  to  sail?  " 

"  On  the  instant,  sir,"  returned  the  other 
promptly.  "  I'd  like  to  see  the  vessel  in  your  com 
mand  that  wasn't  ready  for  anything  on  the  instant," 
he  added  under  his  breath;  not  so  low,  however, 
but  the  admiral  heard  him,  although  he  made  no 
comment  except  to  smile  at  this  testimony  to 
the  high  standard  of  efficiency  he  maintained  in  his 
fleet. 

"  Well,  sir,  you  will  weigh  anchor  at  once  and 
make  the  best  of  your  way  to  Quiberon.  Nightin 
gale,  in  the  Vengeance,  is  already  on  the  way  there 
with  a  warning,  but  two  messengers  are  better  than 
one;  we'll  try  and  make  it  certain.  Don't  spare  any 
thing.  You've  a  swift  ship  and  you  ought  to  pass 
Brest  before  the  French  get  fairly  out  of  it.  They 
are  a  lubberly  lot,  and  it  will  take  time  for  them  to 
get  to  sea.  Give  Ushant  a  wide  berth  too.  Tell 
Duff  to  get  to  sea  at  once  and  that  I  am  coming. 
Don't  get  captured!  " 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  the  young  captain,  fairly 
dancing  out  of  the  room  in  his  delight. 

315 


The  guiberon  Touch 

"  May  I  ask  another  favour,  Sir  Edward?"  asked 
Grafton,  as  Harrison  left  the  room. 

"  What!  "  exclaimed  Hawke,  "  are  you  not  satis 
fied  with  the  Torbay?  " 

"  Yes,  more  than  satisfied,  but  my  first  lieuten 
ant  on  the  Maidstone  is  a  first-class  fellow,  and " 

"  He  may  have  the  frigate,"  answered  Hawke. 
"  Do  you  go  over  there  and  get  your  things  and  shift 
them  to  the  Torbay.  Tell  him  that  I  shall  want  him 
to  keep  ahead  of  the  fleet  and  to  starboard  just 
within  signaling  distance.  The  Coventry  will  be  in 
the  same  position  to  larboard.  I  want  a  bright  look 
out  kept  for  Conflans  too." 

Hawke  had  caused  the  news  of  the  prospective 
sailing  of  the  French  fleet  to  be  sent  through  his 
own  fleet,  and  at  nine  o'clock,  having  completed  his 
own  preparations,  the  captains,  having  been  duly 
summoned  by  signal  in  accordance  with  his  pre 
vious  orders,  repaired  to  the  flag-ship. 

They  at  once  reported  to  him  below  in  his  cabin. 
The  little  group  of  men  completely  filled  the  great 
cabin.  They  were  a  rare  body  of  officers,  most  of 
them  trained  by  Hawke  himself  in  his  own  school. 
Some  of  them  had  been  with  him  in  that  brilliant 
battle  twelve  years  before  in  which  he  had  swept 
down  in  force  and  smashed  the  gallant  L'Etenduere 
in  the  very  seas  in  which  he  was  about  to  attempt  to 
crush  Conflans.  All  of  them  had  participated  with 
him  in  the  rigours  of  the  long  blockade  of  Brest  he 
had  so  vigorously  maintained  since  early  in  the  pres 
ent  year. 

Among  them  were  men  like  Campbell,  Speke, 
316 


Conflans  is  Out 

Denis,  Rowley,  O'Brien,  Baird,  Stanhope,  Storr, 
and  Bentley,  who  were  to  win  an  immortal  name  in 
the  day  of  battle  approaching.  No  less  than  six  of 
them  were  of  noble  birth,  and  all  were  men  of  in 
fluence  and  station,  except  Campbell,  whose  well- 
known  worth  more  than  counterbalanced  the  then 
great  disadvantage  of  humble  birth  and  station  un 
der  which  he  laboured.  With  them,  too,  was  the 
great  and  gallant  Keppel,  afterward  so  unfortunate 
in  his  battle  with  d'Orvilliers;  and  another  whose 
name  was  destined  to  be  scarcely  less  famous  than 
that  of  Hawke  himself,  Richard,  Viscount  Howe, 
then  commanding  the  Magnanime.  Tall,  lean, 
swarthy  of  visage,  which  gave  him  the  sobriquet  of 
"  Black  Dick,"  he  put  in  practice  the  lessons  he  had 
learned  under  Hawke,  on  the  "  glorious  first  of 
June,"  thirty-five  years  later,  when,  with  an  inferior 
force,  he  utterly  defeated  Villaret-Joyeuse. 

Among  such  a  galaxy  of  nautical  stars  Grafton 
kept  himself  modestly  in  the  background;  but  with 
seamanlike  frankness  and  generosity  when  they 
heard  of  his  exploits,  they  extended  to  him  a  hearty 
welcome  and  forced  him  in  the  first  rank  with  genu 
ine  and  hearty  admiration.  He,  too,  was  to  show 
himself  worthy  of  the  honours  and  responsibilities 
which  were  heaped  upon  him — a  fit  member  of  that 
gallant  band. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Hawke 
affectionately,  scanning  the  faces  of  the  men  about 
him,  some  seated  on  chairs,  others  on  transoms,  or 
leaning  against  the  bulkheads,  or  across  the  table 
before  him.  "  Captain  Grafton,  whom  I  have  ap- 

317 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

pointed  to  the  Torbay  on  account  of  his  distin 
guished  services  at  the  taking  of  Quebec,  informs 
me  that  the  fleet  of  de  Conflans,  which  has  been  re- 
enforced  by  the  squadron  of  de  Bompart,  is  about 
to  sail  for  Quiberon.  We  will  at  once  go  in  pur 
suit  of  them.  The  Vengeance  is  gone  on  ahead  to 
carry  the  news,  and  I  have  despatched  Harrison,  in 
the  Venus,  to  warn  Duff,  and  I  trust  one  of  them  at 
least  will  succeed  in  getting  there  in  time.  If 
not " 

"Well,  I  know  Duff,"  broke  in  Vice-Admiral 
Hardy,  the  second  in  command  and  a  most  distin 
guished  officer,  "  he  will  make  a  good  fight  of  it, 
although,  of  course,  he  has  no  chance  with  his  fifty- 
gun  ships;  yet  I'll  wager  Monsieur  de  Conflans  will 
know  that  he's  had  a  fight  on  his  hands  before  he 
takes  them." 

"  Quite  so,"  answered  Hawke  coolly,  "  and  per 
haps  it  may  be  just  as  well  anyway  they  should  meet, 
because  Duff  would  probably  be  able  to  occupy  him, 
between  chasing  and  fighting,  until  we  get  hold  of 
him.  Now,  as  to  our  plan  of  battle,"  said  the  admi 
ral,  looking  about  his  cabin. 

It  was  a  day  when  stern  adherence  to  prescribed 
rules  was  invariably  insisted  upon,  and  many  a  gal 
lant  sailor  had  ruined  a  reputation  and  lost  a  battle 
since  he  could  not  seize  a  golden  opportunity  for  a 
decisive  step  because  the  necessary  manoeuvre  was 
not  laid  down  in  the  text-books.  Hawke  was  not 
that  kind  of  a  man.  They  waited  for  him  interest 
edly — they  knew  him. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  propose  to  go 


Conflans  is  Out 

at  them  whenever  we  see  them  and  wherever  we 
find  them.  We'll  attack  them  in  the  old  way  and 
make  downright  work  of  them,  as  we  did  with 
L'fitenduere,  and  every  man  will  pitch  in.  I  want 
no  court-martials  on  this  occasion.  The  Royal 
George  will  lead,  but  if  any  of  the  rest  of  you  find 
you  have  the  heels  of  her  you  may  go  ahead — if  you 
can.  I  can  trust  you,  I  am  sure.  I  know  you  are 
all  right.  I  have  watched  you  closely  in  the  hard 
cruising  of  the  past  eight  months  in  the  blockade 
on  a  lee-shore,  the  hardest  thing  a  sailor  can  do.  I 
know  the  stuff  that  is  in  you,  and  I  expect  you  to 
show  it  forth.  No  captain  can  do  wrong  if  he  lays 
his  ship  alongside  an  enemy  and  sticks  to  her  until 
the  ship's  his.  If  de  Conflans,  who  ought  to  have 
at  least  twenty  ships  of  the  line,  will  wait  for  us  we 
will  approach  him  with  scientific  precision.  If  he 
does  not,  we  will  go  at  him  pell-mell,  and  may  the 
best  ship  win!  " 

"  Egad,  sir,"  cried  Howe,  who,  because  he  was 
a  viscount,  possibly  felt  himself  entitled  to  speak  be 
fore  the  others,  it  being  a  day  when  rank  was  writ 
ten  with  a  big  R,  and  a  title  meant  a  great  deal  even 
in  the  naval  service — "  egad,  sir,  we'll  follow  you 
into  hell  itself!  " 

"We  will!" 

"  We  will !  "  cried  one  and  another. 

"  I  know  you  will.  However,  I  trust  I'm  not 
going  that  way.  Now,  as  to  the  order  of  sailing. 
The  Royal  George  will  lead.  The  Torbay  will  follow, 
at  a  distance  of  perhaps  half  a  league,  and  the  other 
ships  in  the  prescribed  order  will  keep  the  same  dis- 

319 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

tance.  By  this  means,  with  the  frigates,  we  cover 
something  like  fifteen  leagues  and  make  the  chances 
of  our  sighting  the  French  fleet  almost  certain,  and 
yet  we'll  be  within  easy  signaling  distance,  so  that 
we  can  collect  the  ships  when  we  meet  them.  I  want 
every  ship  in  readiness  for  instant  action.  Keep  a 
bright  lookout  at  the  mastheads  to  sweep  the  sea  in 
every  direction.  I  intend  to  head  now  for  Belleisle 
as  straight  as  the  wind  will  let  us  go,  but  should  the 
course  be  changed  it  will  be  signaled  to  you  from 
the  flagship.  Now,  gentlemen,  I  think  the  chance 
for  which  we  have  been  hoping  and  praying  is  be 
fore  us.  You  know  how  necessary  for  England  is 
a  victory  at  this  moment.  We  are  the  sole  fleet  left 
to  guard  the  shores  of  the  land  we  love.  Should 
Conflans  get  away  or  beat  us " 

"  He'll  never  do  that  same,"  cried  Denis  of  the 
Dorsetshire. 

"  There  would  be  nothing,"  continued  Hawke, 
"  to  prevent  him  from  landing  his  army  on  our 
shores.  Our  King,  our  country,  and  our  homes; 
the  children,  our  wives,  mothers,  sweethearts,  the 
women  of  England,  are  behind  us,  gentlemen;  we 
fight  for  them.  Let  that  thought  animate  us  to  do 
our  duty.  That's  all.  And  now,  before  you  go,  I 
would  take  each  one  of  you  by  the  hand  and  com 
mend  you  and  us  all  to  that  Higher  Power  which 
rules  on  both  land  and  sea.  I  have  confidence  in 
you." 

"  And  we  have  confidence  in  you,  sir,"  answered 
Keppel  for  the  rest,  springing  forward  and  wringing 
his  superior's  hand. 

320 


Conflans  is  Out 

"  Three  cheers  for  Sir  Ed'ard!  "  cried  Stanhope, 
and  the  little  room  was  filled  with  hurrahs. 

Exactly  at  six  bells — for  old  John  Campbell, 
Hawke's  flag-captain,  prided  himself  upon  the  scru 
pulous  accuracy  of  his  movements — the  Royal 
George,  with  her  anchors  swinging  at  the  bow, 
gathered  way.  The  wind  was  coming  from  the 
south-eastward  and  increasing  in  force,  and  she  had 
to  beat  out  of  the  harbour.  Far  ahead  of  her  to 
starboard  was  the  Maidstone;  the  other  way,  to  lar 
board,  was  the  frigate  Coventry. 

With  ill-concealed  impatience  Grafton  waited  in 
the  Torbay,  already  hove  short,  until  he  judged  the 
Royal  George  had  attained  the  required  distance 
ahead,  and  then  he,  too,  gave  the  signal  to  trip. 
The  men  sprang  to  the  capstan  bars;  the  anchor  was 
jerked  from  its  oozy  bed  with  a  celerity  like  that  ex 
hibited  by  a  crew  when  they  weigh  the  anchor  of  a 
ship  that  is  homeward  bound  from  a  long  cruise. 

Sail  after  sail  was  quickly  spread  on  the  old  sev 
enty-four  by  her  eager  men,  and  she  ratched  out  of 
the  harbour  on  the  port  tack  in  the  wake  of  the 
Royal  George,  now  far  ahead  and  going  fast.  The 
wind  was  coming  stronger,  and  as  the  great  ship 
swept  along  she  heeled  to  the  breeze  and  surged 
rapidly  away  to  the  south-west.  The  others  weighed 
in  succession  in  accordance  with  their  orders.  In  a 
few  hours  the  whole  fleet  would  be  at  sea  following 
in  the  wake  of  their  gallant  leader. 

Early  that  day  the  sloop-of-war  Gibraltar,  twen 
ty-eight,  Captain  William  McCleverty,  hove  in 
sight,  and  reported  to  Hawke  that  the  Brest  fleet 

321 


The   guiberon  Touch 

had  indeed  sailed.  They  had  been  seen  that  morn 
ing  about  twenty-four  leagues  north-west  of  Belle- 
isle  steering  toward  the  south-east.  They  were  car 
rying  sail  hard  and  seemed  to  be  in  a  hurry. 

The  first  and  only  signal  hoisted  that  day  was 
then  thrown  from  the  mizzen  royal  masthead  of  the 
admiral's  ship.  It  was  repeated  from  ship  to  ship 
and  was  everywhere  greeted  with  cheers,  and  yet 
the  flags  composing  it  spelled  but  three  short 
words : 

"  Conflans  is  out!  " 


322 


CHAPTER    XXX 

THE    ALARM    IN    THE    MORNING 

AT  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  twen 
tieth  of  November,  1759,  the  ships  of  the  little 
squadron  of  Commodore  Duff  lay  straining  at  their 
anchors  in  Quiberon  Bay.  The  squadron  was  com 
posed  of  the  old  line-of-battle-ship  Belliqueux,  the 
fifty-gun  ships  Rochester  (flag),  Falkland,  Chatham, 
and  Portland,  and  the  frigates  Minerva  and  Sap 
phire,  each  thirty-twos.  Owing  to  the  lateness  of 
the  season  it  was  not  yet  dawn,  although  the  ham 
mocks  had  been  piped  up  and  one  watch  was  already 
at  breakfast.  The  bay  and  the  ships  were  as  calm 
and  peaceful,  apparently,  as  they  had  been  at  any 
time  during  the  weary  months  of  the  blockade  with 
which  Duff,  under  Hawke's  orders,  had  shut  in  the 
transports  of  Belloc  and  d'Aiguillon  and  the  selected 
force  assembled  under  their  orders  for  the  descent 
upon  England. 

The  commander  was  still  asleep  in  the  cabin  of 
the  Rochester  when  the  report  of  a  heavy  gun  far 
to  seaward  attracted  the  attention  of  the  officer  of 
the  watch.  Gun-firing  was  common  enough  along 
the  shore,  where  the  camps  of  the  enemy  lay,  but  it 
was  rare  indeed  that  the  sound  of  it  came  from  the 

323 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

open  ocean  to  the  westward.  Of  so  much  impor 
tance  did  the  officer  conceive  the  incident  to  be, 
that  he  immediately  despatched  a  midshipman  to 
apprise  the  commodore  of  the  fact. 

Duff  sprang  from  his  berth,  and,  realizing  the 
ominous  significance  of  the  occurrence,  dragged  on 
a  few  clothes  and  ran  to  the  deck.  As  he  dressed, 
the  commodore  heard  the  firing,  which  had  been 
repeated  again  and  again.  It  was  evident  from  the 
regularity  of  the  discharge  that  it  came  from  a  sin 
gle  ship.  The  darkness  prevented  them  from  dis 
covering  what  ship  it  was,  though  from  the  steadily 
increasing  volume  of  sound  the  vessel  was  rapidly 
coming  in.  Indeed,  from  the  flashes  of  light  which 
marked  the  several  discharges  they  judged  that  she 
must  be  even  now  approaching  the  Cardinals. 

Duff  and  his  officers  on  deck  peered  eagerly  to 
seaward,  waiting  in  anxious  expectation  for  the  ad 
vent  of  the  stranger.  Meanwhile,  a  preparatory  sig 
nal,  which  bade  the  other  ships  get  in  readiness  to 
weigh  anchor,  was  made  by  means  of  lanterns  from 
the  Rochester.  Quick  answers  showed  that  the  offi 
cers  of  the  little  squadron  were  also  awake  to  the 
incident  and  already  on  the  alert.  It  was  evident  to 
every  one  that  the  sound  could  only  have  been 
caused  by  a  ship  signaling.  Urgent  danger  alone 
would  account  for  the  continuous  discharges.  Sig 
nals  to  an  English  squadron  would  only  be  made  by 
an  English  ship.  They  could  only  mean  that  a 
French  fleet  was  making  for  the  harbour. 

Duff  uneasily  waited  a  few  moments  longer,  and 
presently,  reasoning  the  affair  out,  determined  to  get 

324 


The  Alarm  in  the  Morning 

to  sea  at  once.  He  realized  that  it  was  more  than 
probable  that  the  strong  westerly  gales  which  had 
prevailed  during  the  past  week  had  forced  Hawke 
to  raise  the  blockade,  and  that  the  Brest  fleet  had 
got  out  a  few  days  before  when  the  gale  had  abated, 
before  the  English  ships  could  get  back  to  their  sta 
tion.  Naturally  their  destination  would  be  Quibe- 
ron.  If  he  were  caught  in  the  confines  of  the  lit 
tle  bay  he  would  be  lost.  Out  at  sea  he  could  at 
least  make  a  run  for  it.  There  was,  of  course,  a 
chance — nay,  more  than  a  chance,  a  certainty — that 
old  Hawke  would  be  hard  on  the  heels  of  the 
French,  who  would  be  in  such  force  that  resist 
ance  on  the  part  of  Duff's  little  squadron  would  be 
madness. 

Having  at  last  made  up  his  mind,  he  acted  with 
the  promptness  of  a  sailor.  It  were  better  to  lose 
no  time,  and  the  ships  of  his  squadron  were  sig 
naled  to  put  to  sea  immediately.  By  their  com 
mander's  direction,  they  did  not  even  wait  to  weigh 
anchor,  but  cut  cables  as  fast  as  sail  could  be  made, 
and,  favoured  by  a  strong  easterly  breeze,  rushed 
for  the  narrow  entrance  of  the  bay.  The  Belliqueux, 
which  happened  to  lie  farthest  out,  was  the  first  to 
get  under  way.  She  was  followed  by  the  other  ships 
in  quick  succession. 

Just  as  they  reached  the  pass  between  the  Cardi 
nals  and  the  reefs  of  Le  Four  they  drew  within  sig 
nal  distance  of  the  incoming  ship.  It  was  gray 
morning  now,  and  from  the  deck  of  the  Rochester 
they  could  make  out  her  number  by  the  aid  of  their 
glasses. 

325 


The  guiberon  Touch 

"  '  The  Vengeance,  Captain  Nightingale/  "  read 
the  signal  officer  who  stood  at  Duff's  side. 

"  Show  the  answering  pennants  smartly,  sir." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir." 

As  soon  as  it  was  discovered  on  the  Vengeance 
another  set  of  signals  was  displayed. 

"  '  The  French  are  out.  Raise  the  blockade/  ' 
read  the  signal  officer  again. 

"Ah,"  said  Duff,  "I  thought  so!  We  were 
none  too  soon,  then.  Have  you  answered  them?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  there  goes  out  another  signal." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  '  Hawke  is  coming!'  '  cried  the  officer  tri 
umphantly. 

"  Of  course,  I  expected  nothing  else,"  said  Duff, 
smiling  with  satisfaction.  "  Now  signal  the  Venge 
ance  to  follow  the  squadron,  and  then  direct  the 
ships  to  follow  the  Belliqueux.  Signal  her  to  round 
the  Cardinals  and  beat  up  to  the  nor'west  between 
Haedik  and  Belleisle." 

The  stout  ships  were  by  this  time  covered  with 
canvas  and  were  rushing  through  the  water  at  a 
great  rate,  the  Belliqueux,  which  was  much  the  best 
sailer,  being  far  in  the  lead.  In  fact,  she  had  already 
rounded  the  Cardinals,  and  with  her  starboard  tacks 
aboard  was  well  within  the  dangerous  pass  between 
the  two  islands,  when  the  wind,  which  had  been 
northerly,  suddenly  shifted  to  the  westward.  This 
was  most  unfortunate. 

The  distance  the  first  ship  had  gained  would 
probably  enable  her  to  beat  through  the  pass  and 
round  Belleisle,  in  spite  of  the  dangerous  shoals, 

326 


The  Alarm  in  the  Morning 

known  as  the  Banes  de  Taillefer,  in  her  path.  But 
for  the  other  ships  it  would  be  impracticable  now  to 
attempt  the  pass.  In  that  way  lay  safety,  every 
where  else  danger;  but  there  was  no  help  for  it. 

Duff  gathered  his  fifty-gun  ships  and  frigates 
around  him  by  signal,  leaving  the  Belliqueux  to  her 
own  devices,  and  then  hauled  his  wind  and  bore 
away  to  the  southward  under  a  great  press  of  can 
vas.  But  as  the  breeze  was  coming  stronger  every 
moment,  he  presently  stripped  the  light  sails  from 
his  ships,  and  as  the  force  of  the  wind  increased  he 
was  finally  compelled  to  take  in  the  topgallant-sails, 
and  after  reefing  his  topsails  set  the  maintopgallant- 
sail  above  them.  At  this  juncture  the  Venus  joined 
the  flying  squadron.  Harrison  had  driven  her  ter 
rifically,  and  even  now  had  his  three  topgallant-sails 
set;  his  little  ship  was  pitching  and  tossing  tre 
mendously.  The  small  signal  flags,  whipping  out 
in  the  fierce  wind,  spelled  an  ominous  message: 
"  The  French  are  close  behind."  Harrison  had  done 
nobly.  He  fell  in  with  the  rest  of  the  fleeing  ships. 

Day  broke  gray  and  stormy.  The  clouds  were 
piled  up  on  the  horizon  and  overhead  in  threatening 
masses.  The  wind  came  in  ever  more  and  more 
fierce  squalls  from  the  north-west,  drawing  gradual 
ly  toward  the  west.  Before  it  was  fairly  day  the  look 
outs  on  the  maintopgallant-yard  of  the  Rochester, 
which,  with  the  Chatham,  were  far  in  the  rear  of  the 
other  vessels  on  account  of  their  slow  speed,  dis 
covered  a  sail  a  little  to  the  north  and  far  to  wind 
ward.  There  was  a  slight  mist  on  the  ocean  in  that 
quarter,  and  it  was  not  for  some  time  after  the  day 

327 


The  guiberon  Touch 

dawned  that  they  discovered  that  it  was  the  great 
French  fleet. 

The  English  had  been  warned  none  too  soon. 
Another  hour  and  they  would  have  been  caught 
in  the  harbour.  The  easterly  gales,  which  had  de 
layed  Hawke,  had  swept  de  Conflans  far  to  sea  as 
well  and  proved  Duff's  salvation.  The  two  observ 
ers  on  the  different  squadrons  were  cognizant  of 
each  other's  proximity  at  the  same  instant,  for  the 
French,  who  had  been  jogging  along  under  easy 
sail  in  the  heavy  wind,  at  once  spread  more  canvas 
until  they  were  under  the  same  sail  as  the  English 
squadron.  Duff  instantly  divided  his  squadron, 
hoping  to  part  the  French  fleet  in  pursuit.  Two  of 
the  fifty-gun  ships  and  two  frigates  squared  away 
before  the  wind  and  ran  toward  the  shore,  inclining 
to  the  south-east,  and  hoping,  perhaps,  to  decoy  the 
French  to  chase  past  the  entrance  of  the  bay  and 
thus  keep  them  out  at  sea.  The  others,  including 
the  commodore  himself,  held  steadily  on  to  the 
south-west,  with  their  starboard  tacks  aboard  and 
every  bowline  triced  out  until  they  almost  ripped 
the  bolt-ropes  from  the  sails. 

Presently  one  ship  of  the  line  hauled  her  wind 
and  came  booming  along  in  the  wake  of  the  Roches 
ter.  The  other  French  ships  kept  on  after  the  group 
fleeing  toward  the  shore.  In  a  few  moments,  how 
ever,  signals  were  broken  out  on  the  French  flag 
ship,  and  in  obedience  thereto  the  rear  division  of 
six  magnificent  ships  of  the  line  came  up  to  the 
wind  on  the  starboard  tack  and  also  headed  for  Duff, 
while  the  remaining  French  ships,  of  which  the  Eng- 

328 


The  Alarm  in  the  Morning 

lish  counted  fourteen,  and  several  frigates,  held  on  as 
before.  The  advancing  squadron  of  the  French  was 
composed  of  good  goers,  and  it  was  soon  found  they 
had  the  heels  of  the  English  ships. 

Duff  had  been  elated  when  he  found  himself 
pursued  by  a  single  ship  of  the  line.  He  counted 
upon  easily  disposing  of  her  with  the  Chatham 
and  the  Rochester,  but  when  seven  bore  down  upon 
him  the  situation  was  altered.  Any  hope  of  success 
ful  resistance  vanished.  Nevertheless  he  determined 
to  make  a  fight  for  it — a  bold  resolution  indeed. 
Neglecting  no  opportunity  of  increasing  his  speed 
meanwhile,  the  men  were  sent  to  their  quarters,  the 
guns  cast  loose  and  provided,  and  every  preparation 
made  for  action. 

The  news  which  Nightingale  had  brought,  that 
Hawke  was  on  the  heels  of  the  French,  was  reassur 
ing,  and  remembering  Hawke's  well-known  charac 
teristics,  it  was  certain  that  he  would  not  be  far  away. 
Perhaps  they  might  see  him  at  any  moment.  The 
commodore  sent  lookouts  to  the  topgallant-yards 
at  once  in  the  hope  that  they  might  detect  the  Eng 
lish  fleet. 

Duff  realized  that  if  he  were  overhauled  it  was 
his  business  to  fight  his  own  ships  until  they  sunk 
beneath  him,  so  that  he  might  thereby  detain  and 
occupy  the  enemy  to  give  their  pursuers  time  to 
catch  up  with  them. 

Quiberon  Bay,  with  all  its  dangers  to  the  Eng 
lish,  lay  immediately  before  the  French  fleet  with 
the  wind  blowing  fair  for  them  to  make  the  entrance. 
No  one  could  tell  what  de  Conflans*  intentions  were. 
22  329 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

He  might  decide  to  stay  outside  and  fight,  or  he 
might  design  to  run  into  the  bay  and  wait.  If  he 
ran  and  gained  the  bay  it  would  be  very  difficult  for 
Hawke  to  force  a  combat  with  him  except  under 
circumstances  of  great  disadvantage.  If  Duff  could 
detain  Conflans  outside,  either  by  drawing  him  after 
the  ships  he  was  chasing,  or  by  fighting  him  with 
his  own  until  Hawke  came  up,  he  could  be  of  great 
service  to  the  admiral. 

His  duty  was  plain,  yet  he  and  his  men,  who 
already  realized  the  situation,  looked  forward  to  the 
approaching  conflict  with  feelings  of  deep  appre 
hension,  which  not  even  their  grim  determination 
could  remove.  They  held  on  desperately,  however, 
and  the  French  rear  division  drew  nearer  every  mo 
ment. 

"Aloft  there!"  at  last  called  out  the  commo 
dore.  "  Do  you  see  anything  aft  or  to  windward?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  the  man  on  the  maintop- 
gallant-yard. 

"  Go  higher!  "  shouted  Duff,  "  get  on  the  main- 
royal-yard  and  take  a  long  look." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir!  "  cried  the  man,  shinning  up  the 
backstays  until  he  presently  reached  the  royal  yard. 

He  stepped  on  it  fearlessly,  and  twining  his  arm 
around  the  royal  mast  looked  over  to  windward. 
Everybody  had  heard  the  direction,  and  all  waited 
impatiently  for  the  report. 

"Well?"  cried  the  commodore  sharply  at  last; 
but  before  he  could  finish  the  question  the  man 
screamed  out: 

"Sail  ho!" 

330 


The  Alarm  in  the  Morning 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  called.  "  Can  you  make  it 
out?  " 

"  Looks  like  a  heavy  ship,  sir,  over  to  win'ard 
an'  comin'  down  fast,  an'  there's  more  on  'em,  sir! 
I  can  see  two — three " 

"  Pray  God  it  may  be  Hawke!  "  said  Duff  to  his 
first  lieutenant.  "  The  French  are  fearfully  near. 
Here,  Mr.  Coventry,"  he  added,  turning  to  a  young 
passed  midshipman,  "  take  the  glass  and  skip  up  to 
the  mainroyal-yard  and  see  what  you  can  make  of 
them.  Lively,  sir!  " 

Presently  the  young  officer  joined  the  lookout 
on  his  dizzy  perch.  Steadying  the  glass  against  the 
mast  he,  too,  looked  long  at  the  approaching  stran 
gers,  which  the  strong  gale  was  driving  nearer  every 
moment. 

"  Tis  a  large  fleet,  sir,"  he  called  down  from  his 
position,  "  ships  of  the  line,  a  dozen  sail  and  more. 
English  ships,  sir." 

"  That  will  be  Sir  Edward  without  a  doubt !  " 
cried  Duff.  "  Stay  where  you  are,  Mr.  Coventry, 
and  report  what  you  see.  Gentlemen,  our  fleet  is 
there.  We  will  run  no  longer.  Signal  to  the 
Chatham  to  tack  at  once.  Ready  about!  Stations 
for  stays!  " 

His  words  were  heard  all  over  the  ship.  The 
men  leaped  to  their  stations,  cheering  madly  as  the 
ship  swept  into  the  wind  and  ran  off  on  the  port  tack 
toward  the  approaching  French  advance,  followed 
by  the  Chatham.  When  they  realized  their  plucky 
commodore  intended  to  fight  his  huge  antagonists 
the  cheers  redoubled  in  volume,  and  the  excitement 

331 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

finally  terminated  in  a  characteristic  piece  of  sea 
bravado  and  defiance.  The  men  leaped  on  the  rail 
of  the  Rochester  and  threw  their  caps  overboard  at 
the  oncoming  Frenchmen. 

Meanwhile  the  approaching  English  ships  had 
been  discovered  by  the  French  commander.  A  gun 
boomed  out  faintly  from  the  flagship  of  de  Conflans, 
Le  Soleil  Royal.  Signals  were  flying  from  the  miz- 
zenroyal-mast  of  the  ship.  In  obedience  thereto, 
the  rear  division,  which  was  now  almost  within  gun 
shot  of  Duff's  squadron,  wore  and  ran  off  on  the 
other  tack. 

Conflans  was  assembling  his  ships.  What  was 
he  about  to  do — fight,  or  fly? 


332 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

THE    FRENCH    WAIT — BREAK FLY 

AT  half  after  eight  in  the  morning  of  the  same 
day,  the  great  fleet  of  the  English,  which  had  been 
driven  far  over  to  the  westward  of  their  destination 
by  the  strong  south-easterly  winds  and  gales  which 
had  prevailed,  had  arrived  at  a  point  about  thirteen 
leagues  due  west  of  Belleisle.  During  the  night, 
fortunately,  the  wind  had  shifted  and  was  now  com 
ing  strong  from  the  north-west,  changing  to  the 
west-north-west.  The  fleet  was  headed  to  the  east 
for  Belleisle. 

The  order  of  sailing  had  been  altered  soon  after 
the  fleet  had  cleared  the  English  Channel.  In  order 
to  be  within  easy  signaling  distance  from  both  ends 
of  the  line,  the  Royal  George  had  been  placed  in  the 
centre  of  the  great  fleet.  Lord  Howe,  in  the  Mag- 
nanime,  a  splendid  ship  recently  captured  from  the 
French,  was  far  to  the  north-east  of  the  flag-ship, 
leading  the  van  to  port.  Vice- Admiral  Hardy,  in  the 
Union,  a  noble  three-decker  of  ninety  guns,  brought 
up  the  rear  of  his  division,  and  was  the  starboard  and 
rearmost  ship,  bearing  south-west  from  the  centre. 
Next  to  the  Magnanime,  in  order,  were  the  other 
ships  of  the  line,  the  Warspite,  Dorsetshire,  Monta- 

333 


The  guiberon  Touch 

gu,  Torbay,  Swiftsure,  Resolution,  Defiance,  Re 
venge,  and  Royal  George,  with  the  Duke,  Namur, 
Mars,  Hero,  Beaufort,  Chichester,  Temple,  Kings 
ton,  Burford,  Hercules,  Dunkirk,  Intrepid,  and  the 
Union  last,  in  the  rear  of  Hawke.  Far  in  advance  of 
the  fleet,  on  either  side,  were  the  frigates  Coventry 
and  the  Maidstone,  keeping  close  watch  ahead. 

All  the  ships  were  under  easy  sail,  jogging  along 
to  the  eastward,  keeping  a  bright  lookout  in  all  di 
rections  for  a  sight  of  the  enemy.  In  order  to  spread 
a  broad  clew,  the  several  ships  were  widely  sepa 
rated,  covering  many  miles  of  sea  thereby.  Hav 
ing  arrived  near  where  he  hoped  to  meet  de  Con- 
flans,  Hawke  had  no  further  necessity  for  swift 
movement.  He  was  waiting  now  and  was  ready  to 
strike. 

As  day  broke  the  admiral  made  the  signal  for 
the  Magnanime  and  the  two  frigates  to  press  in  to 
ward  the  shore.  The  vessels  designated  clapped  on 
sail,  and,  like  released  hounds,  sprang  away  from  the 
fleet,  which  still  continued  moving  easily  along  in 
the  rear  of  them.  At  one  bell,  or  half  after  eight  in 
the  morning,  a  gun  was  fired  from  the  Maidstone, 
which  led  the  trio,  and  at  the  same  time  she  let  fly 
her  topgallant  sheets,  which  was  the  agreed  signal 
that  the  enemy  was  in  sight. 

Hawke  at  once  flung  out  signal  to  form  line 
abreast  in  order  to  draw  his  scattered  fleet  in  posi 
tion  for  action.  Then,  in  spite  of  the  wind,  which 
was  now  blowing  stronger  and  increasing,  he  shook 
the  reefs  out  of  his  topsails  and  set  the  topgallant- 
sails — a  manoeuvre  which  was  emulated  by  the  other 

334 


The  French  Wait — Break- — Fly 

ships  immediately — and  changed  the  course  to  head 
direct  for  the  fleet  which  had  been  sighted.  The 
ships  of  the  fleet  at  the  time  were  in  a  sort  of  irregu 
lar  bow-and-quarter  line — which  a  soldier  would 
have  described  as  en  echelon — with  the  Magnanime 
in  the  lead,  Hawke  in  the  middle,  the  van  division  to 
windward  nearest  the  shore  and  the  enemy,  and  the 
remaining  division  far  astern  of  the  flagship  and  to 
leeward. 

Presently,  as  the  morning  wore  on,  the  French 
fleet  came  in  sight  from  the  other  ships  of  the  Eng 
lish  fleet.  Twenty-one  ships  of  the  line  the  watchers 
counted,  with  three  flag  officers,  a  splendid  force 
indeed.  Although  Hawke  had  twenty-three  capital 
ships,  besides  Duff's  four  fifty-gun  ships,  the  odds 
against  the  French  were  not  overwhelmingly  great; 
not  too  heavy,  at  any  rate,  for  a  brave  commander  to 
risk  an  action  with  abundant  chances  of  victory. 
A  long  distance  still  separated  the  two  fleets,  how 
ever,  and  even  with  the  most  earnest  will  on  both 
sides  they  could  not  join  battle  for  some  time. 

Until  it  was  decided  what  the  intentions  of  de 
Conflans  were  there  was  nothing  for  Hawke  to  do 
but  hold  on;  trusting  that  by  redoubled  efforts  and 
by  carrying  a  press  of  sail,  which  nothing  but  the 
urgency  of  the  situation  would  have  warranted,  the 
rear  ships  might  close  with  the  other  division  in 
time  to  join  in  the  battle.  The  Englishman  also 
hoped  that  de  Conflans  would  wait  for  them.  With 
a  seaman's  ready  eye  Hawke  had  at  once  realized 
that  de  Conflans  was  chasing  Duff's  squadron.  In 
fact,  as  they  drew  nearer  they  saw  the  recall  of  the 

335 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

French  rear  divisions  and  Duff's  prompt  and  daring 
manoeuvre  afterward. 

"  He's  going  to  make  a  run  for  it!  "  said  Hawke, 
running  the  tubes  of  his  glass  together  and  laying 
it  down  on  the  signal  chest  in  much  disgust,  as  he 
saw  the  French  rear  division,  which  was  nearest  him, 
wear  away  from  the  approaching  English  ships. 
"Look  at  Duff,  Campbell,"  he  continued;  "by 
Heaven,  he's  tacking  toward  the  French!  He's 
about  to  engage!  'Tis  madness!  Mr.  Vernon,  sig 
nal  him  to  join  the  fleet  immediately." 

"  I'm  no  thinkin'  the  French'll  hae  muckle 
stomach  for  a  fight,  Sir  Ed'ard,"  answered  the  old 
Scotsman,  a  worthy  but  eccentric  officer  of  humble 
birth,  who  had  first  entered  the  service  before  the 
mast  and  had  attained  his  present  rank  by  sheer 
merit  alone.  He  was,  by  virtue  of  his  command 
of  the  Royal  George,  the  flag  captain.  "  Eight 
months  shut  up  in  a  harbour  by  a  blockade  will  no 

gie  a  mon  muckle  heart  for  a My  certie!  "  he 

cried,  "  look  at  that,  noo!  I've  been  doin'  them  an 
injustice!  " 

"  What's  he  up  to,  I  wonder?  "  exclaimed  the 
admiral,  seizing  his  glass  once  more  and  staring  at 
the  French  fleet.  "  Egad!  He's  hauling  his  wind, 
I  believe!  They  are  trying  to  form  line  of  battle. 
What  a  ragged  line!  He  has  more  pluck  than  I 
gave  him  credit  for." 

"  An'  a  lubberly  lot  o'  seamen,  too,"  continued 
Campbell,  surveying  them  critically. 

"  Ay,  if  yon's  any  sign  of  their  ability,  once  let 
us  get  in  touch  with  them,  and — but  thank  Heaven, 

336 


The  French  Wait — Break — Fly 

they  fight  better  than  they  sail.  When  we  overhaul 
them  we'll  have  our  hands  full." 

"  You  will  be  waitin'  for  the  rear  division,  I'm 
thinkin',  Sir  Ed'ard,  if  the  French  admiral  shows 
signs  of  waitin'  for  us?  " 

"What's  that,  Campbell?     I'm  surprised!" 

"  Now  that  he's  makin'  preparations  to  fight 
proper  like,  you'll  approach  him  in  a  seamanlike  an' 
scienteefic  manner " 

"  I'll  wait  for  nothing,"  said  Hawke  decisively. 
"  I've  no  confidence  whatever  that  they  will  remain 
where  they  are  very  long,  and  I  don't  intend  to  lose 
any  chances  by  waiting  for  anybody.  Gad,  I  wish 
I'd  stayed  at  the  other  end  of  the  line!  Look  at  the 
Magnanime  now,  and  the  Warspite  and  the  Torbay. 
We  are  so  far  astern  and  to  leeward  of  them  all." 

"  True,  Sir  Ed'ard,  but  the  most  of  the  fleet  is 
worse  off  than  we  are,  remember,  an'  if  you  intend 
to  attack  the  whole  French  fleet  wi'  the  van  ships 
an'  the  Royal  George  we'll  hae  opportunity  an' 
time  to  get  a  bellyful  o'  fightin'  before  we  are 
through  this  day." 

"  'Twouldn't  do  to  set  the  royals,  I  suppose?  " 

"  If  you  want  to  carry  away  the  royal  masts  be 
fore  the  French  get  a  shot  at  us  'twill  be  the  easiest 
way,  Sir  Ed'ard.  Set  the  royals,  sir!  Losh  me! 
I'm  thinkin'  we'll  hae  to  take  in  the  to'gallant-sails." 

"  Let  them  be!  "  cried  Hawke,  after  a  quick 
glance  aloft.  "  They'll  stand  it." 

"  Verra  well,  sir,"  answered  the  Scotsman  phleg- 
matically,  "  you  are  in  command." 

"  Yes,  and  a  good  thing  for  you,  too.    If  I  were 

337 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

not  here,"  answered  Hawke,  who  knew  the  man 
thoroughly,  "  you'd  have  had  the  royals  on  her 
yourself,  John  Campbell.  I  know  you  better  than 
you  do  yourself." 

The  captain  smiled  deprecatingly  and  waved  his 
hand  in  denial,  but  did  not  presume  to  contradict  the 
admiral,  nor  indeed  did  he  wish  to. 

The  ships  were  swaying  and  tossing  tremendous 
ly  now,  rolling  and  heaving  until  they  buried  their 
lee-chains  under  water  again  and  again  in  the  huge 
green  waves  of  the  heavy  sea.  The  decks  were  at 
such  a  slant  that  only  the  most  experienced  seamen 
could  keep  their  feet.  Yet  Hawke,  in  spite  of  his 
unwieldiness,  made  no  difficulty  about  it,  standing 
over  to  windward  leaning  by  the  rail,  watching  the 
English  ships  struggling  skilfully  in  the  huge  waves 
to  get  into  some  kind  of  line.  The  wind  was  coming 
over  the  quarter,  the  best  point  of  sailing  for  most 
of  the  British  ships,  and,  going  at  a  great  pace,  they 
were  rapidly  drawing  nearer  to  the  enemy. 

An  ominous  yet  magnificent  picture  they  must 
have  presented  to  the  waiting  Conflans  as  they  dove 
into  and  through  the  huge  seas,  rocking  and  pitch 
ing  irresistibly  onward.  The  odds,  he  knew,  were 
against  him.  In  the  number  of  ships  the  English 
outclassed  him  by  two.  In  the  weight  of  tonnage 
and  gun  power  there  was  a  greater  inequality,  and, 
what  was  more  serious — nay,  decisive — in  the  per 
sonnel  of  the  two  fleets  a  vast  difference.  Still,  with 
other  things  equal,  victories  had  been  won,  decisive 
victories,  too,  against  such  odds  of  force.  Hawrke, 
for  instance,  would  not  have  hesitated  a  second  to 

338 


The  French  Wait — Break — Fly 

engage  under  such  circumstances  if  he  had  been  in 
de  Conflans'  place — and  without  doubt  he  would 
have  won  too ! 

Those  weather-beaten  old  monsters  who  had 
clung  to  the  blockade  in  the  wild  weather  of  the 
Bay  of  Biscay  were  handled  by  men  who  knew 
their  ships  from  truck  to  keelson,  from  yard-arm 
to  yard-arm ;  men  who  could  get  out  of  them  all  that 
mortal  men  could  wrest  from  rope,  and  canvas,  and 
timber.  Some  of  de  Conflans'  ships  were  manned 
by  landsmen,  and  several  of  them  commanded  by 
officers  whose  theoretical  knowledge  was  greatly  in 
excess  of  their  practical  experience.  Strange  as  it 
may  seem,  many  of  the  junior  French  officers  were 
sea-sick  at  the  time. 

As  the  English  ships  came  nearer,  apparently 
rising  in  ever-increasing  number  and  size,  out  of  the 
gray  west  on  that  raw  morning,  perhaps  the  heart 
of  the  French  commander  gave  way.  At  any  rate, 
he  determined  upon  another  plan.  A  scheme  oc 
curred  to  him  which  was  not  lacking  in  ingenuity 
and  which  presented  some  chances  of  success,  al 
though  certainly  it  was  not  remarkable  either  for 
boldness  or  hardihood. 

The  Bay  of  Quiberon  is  one  of  the  most  difficult 
and  dangerous  of  access  in  the  world.  From  Morbi- 
han  in  Brittany  a  long,  narrow,  rocky  peninsula, 
Presqu'ile  de  Quiberon,  extends  far  to  the  south 
ward,  and  with  Belleisle  and  the  rocky  islands  of 
Houat  and  Haedik  incloses  the  greater  part  of  the 
bay  to  which  the  peninsula  gives  a  name.  Off  the 
lower  island,  Haedik,  a  series  of  dangerous  reefs 

339 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

known  as  the  Cardinals,  Les  Petits  et  Les  Grands 
Cardinaux,  extends  to  the  south-east,  the  only  prac 
ticable  channel  leading  into  the  bay  being  by  the  side 
of  these  jagged  needles  of  the  sea.  Close  to  the 
point  of  Croisic,  on  the  mainland  to  the  eastward, 
there  is  a  narrow  channel  which  is  terminated  by  the 
deadly  reefs  of  Le  Four  bank,  a  large  and  treacher 
ous  shoal. 

Between  the  Cardinals  and  Le  Four  bank,  for  a 
distance  of  several  miles,  extends  the  entrance  to  the 
bay.  This  entrance  is  further  complicated  by  hid 
den  shoals  and  numerous  reefs,  upon  which  the  rude 
tempests,  so  frequent  in  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  drive  the 
waves  with  resistless  force.  The  Bay  of  Biscay,  on 
account  of  the  peculiar  configuration  of  the  sur 
rounding  terrein,  and  by  its  location  as  well,  is  one 
of  the  most  restless,  stormy,  and  difficult  waters 
upon  the  globe.  Within  the  Bay  of  Quiberon  there 
is  good  harbourage,  with  sufficient  accommodation 
for  all  the  squadrons  of  the  world,  although  pilotage 
is  necessary  everywhere  on  account  of  the  erratic 
grouping  of  the  shoals  and  reefs. 

As  the  English  fleet  drew  nearer,  de  Conflans, 
who  was,  of  course,  provided  with  capable  pilots,  de 
termined  to  break  his  line  of  battle  and  seek  refuge 
in  the  bay.  If  Hawke  tried  to  follow  him — which 
he  thought  unlikely  under  such  conditions  of  wind 
and  weather — as  the  English  were  without  local 
pilots  they  would  probably  be  entangled  in  the  dan 
gerous  waters  and  wrecked  on  the  shoals  and  reefs. 

If  the  English  succeeded  in  getting  into  the  bay 
then,  or  after,  he  intended  to  place  his  fleet  in  a  safe 

340 


The  French  Wait — Break — Fly 

position  under  the  lee  of  the  islands  and  the  penin 
sula,  which  would  compel  Hawke  to  attack  him 
in  succession  ship  by  ship,  and  from  the  leeward;  a 
serious  disadvantage  to  the  English,  which  would 
permit  the  French  to  crush  the  several  ships  as  they 
came  in  and  on.  It  was  a  pretty  idea,  though  not 
overdaring,  but  it  neglected  to  take  into  account 
the  qualities  of  Hawke.  When  they  turned  tail  in 
the  presence  of  such  a  captain,  though  they  knew  it 
not,  they  were  doomed.  To  fly  was  destruction; 
their  only  salvation  was  to  fight.  De  Conflans  did 
not  see  this,  so  when  he  thought  his  motions  led  to 
safety,  they  only  wrought  his  undoing.  However, 
he  was  doomed  anyway,  opposed  by  such  a  com 
mander  as  the  English  admiral. 

As  they  drew  nearer,  the  watching  Englishmen 
saw  another  set  of  signals  suddenly  flung  to  the  gale, 
and  immediately  thereafter  the  French  ships  turned 
sharply  and  cracked  on  sail,  running  straight  for  the 
bay  mouth,  then  about  a  dozen  miles  distant  under 
their  lee.  As  is  always  the  case  in  retreat,  the  for 
mation  was  lost.  The  line  had  been  poorly  formed 
at  best,  and  the  van  division,  under  de  Beauffremont, 
got  away  first  and  ran  off  under  all  practicable  sail 
toward  Croisic  and  Le  Four.  De  Conflans  led  the 
centre  division  for  the  Cardinals,  followed  at  some 
little  distance  by  the  rear  division  of  the  Count  du 
Verger,  who  covered  the  retreat  in  his  flag-ship,  the 
Formidable,  a  noble  vessel  of  eighty  guns. 

It  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning  by 
this  time.  All  the  ships  of  both  fleets  were  well  to 
the  south  of  Belleisle  now. 

341 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  Hawke  to  old  Campbell, 
in  deep  disappointment,  as  he  saw  his  enemies  flying 
before  him,  "  you  were  right.  There  they  go  off, 
you  see.  The  cowards!  Why  couldn't  they  have 
stayed  here  and  given  us  a  decent  chance  at  them? 
They're  making  for  Quiberon,  of  course." 

'  You'll  be  givin'  it  up,  noo,  I'm  thinkin',  Sir 
Ed'ard,"  remarked  Campbell,  his  voice  full  of  anx 
iety  lest  his  question  should  be  answered  in  the  af 
firmative. 

"  Certainly  not.  Wherever  they  go  I  mean  to 
follow.  Mr.  Vernon,"  he  said,  turning  to  his  signal 
officer,  "  direct  the  Magnanime  and  the  van  division 
to  draw  in  line  ahead  and  intercept  the  enemy. 
Then  throw  out  signals  for  a  general  chase.  We'll 
go  at  them  as  we  can.  And  hark  ye,  Campbell,  if 
you  don't  get  this  ship  up  into  the  line  so  that  I  can 
take  part  with  the  rest  in  spite  of  the  long  start 
they've  had,  by  gad,  old  man,  you  shall  be  broken!  " 

Hawke  shook  his  finger  at  the  Scotsman. 

"  Never  fear,  sir,"  said  the  old  man  imperturb- 
ably.  "  I'm  thinkin'  when  the  battle  joins  the  old 
Geordie  '11  be  there." 

"  There  goes  the  Magnanime!  What  a  splendid 
fellow  is  Howe!  "  remarked  the  admiral,  smiling  at 
his  cool  subordinate,  as  they  saw  the  Magnanime 
spread  more  sail,  leave  the  line,  and  dart  ahead. 

"  Ay,  sir,  an'  there  she's  followed  by  the  Torbay 
an'  the  Warspite,  an'  a'  the  ithers." 

"  I  wish  I  had  remained  in  the  lead  myself,  or 
that  I  were  in  the  Magnanime  now." 

"  Rest  easy,  Sir  Ed'ard,  we'll  be  there  in  time. 

342 


The  French  Wait — Break — Fly 

Now,  my  men,"  said  old  Campbell,  walking  to  the 
break  of  the  poop  and  not  making  his  communica 
tion  through  his  executive  officer  as  usual,  "  I  want 
you  to  get  an  extra  pull  on  all  the  halliards  an'  haul 
out  the  sheets  as  well.  Rig  wheeps  and  wet  down 
the  sails  too.  Send  the  best  men  in  the  ship  to  the 
wheel,  Mr.  Botterel,"  he  continued  to  his  executive 
officer;  "those  fellows  yonder  hae  the  start  of  us,  but 
we  winna  let  them  be  too  far  ahead  when  the  battle 
is  joined." 

"  Signal  the  squadron  to  send  the  men  to  dinner, 
Mr.  Vernon,  at  eight  bells;  they  will  fight  better  on 
a  full  stomach  and  a  tot  of  grog.  I  shall  be  back 
presently,"  continued  Hawke,  turning  to  his  cabin. 


343 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

A    STERN    CHASE    ON    A    LEE-SHORE 

IT  was  nearly  twelve  o'clock,  noon,  when  Hawke 
went  below.  He  snatched  a  hasty  luncheon  in  his 
cabin,  and  then  proceeded  to  make  those  few  per 
sonal  preparations  for  battle  which  his  habit  and  ex 
perience  dictated.  His  private  affairs  had  been 
placed  in  order  before  he  had  assumed  his  present 
command,  and  they  therefore  required  no  attention 
now.  His  beloved  wife  had  died  some  time  before, 
and  there  were  no  letters  to  be  written.  Still,  there 
were  some  things  to  be  done. 

He  first  put  on  his  dress  uniform  of  blue,  heavily 
laced  with  gold  and  trimmed  with  silver  and  white, 
and  fastened  with  gold  buttons  each  having  a  rose 
on  them,  and  with  his  Star  of  the  Bath  blazing  upon 
his  left  breast.  As  was  the  custom  of  many  of  the 
captains  of  that  day,  he  considered  it  a  point  of  hon 
our  to  fight  in  full  dress.  The  wide  cuffs  of  the  coat 
permitted  a  view  of  the  full  white  kersey  sleeve 
edged  with  Flemish  lace  which  fell  over  his  hands, 
singularly  smooth  and  well-shaped  for  a  sailor.  At 
his  throat  he  wore  a  jabot,  or  fall,  of  similar  lace, 
which  with  his  ruffled  shirt  appeared  in  the  opening 
of  his  high-buttoned  white  waistcoat.  Tight-fitting 

344 


A  Stern  Chase  on  a  Lee-Shore 

white  breeches,  silk  stockings,  and  buckled  shoes 
completed  his  attire.  His  valet  carefully  powdered 
his  hair  and  brought  him  his  sword,  a  handsome, 
richly  jewelled  weapon,  which  he  belted  around  his 
waist. 

Having  completed  his  toilet,  he  withdrew  into 
his  inner  cabin,  as  was  his  custom  in  similar  and  seri 
ous  emergencies,  and  passed  a  few  moments  in  rev 
erent  communication  with  his  Maker.  Hearty  and 
fervent  were  the  prayers  of  this  great  captain,  who 
was  noted  for  his  clean  living  and  simple  faith,  in  a 
day  when  such  things  were  not  common — if  they 
ever  are — especially  among  men  of  the  sword. 
Then,  with  a  curious  mixture  of  reliance  upon  his 
own  judgment  and  capacity,  and  trust  in  that  Father 
to  whom  he  had  appealed,  he  re-entered  his  cabin, 
wrapped  himself  in  his  heavy  boat-cloak,  for  the 
wind  was  cold,  so  late  was  the  season,  donned  his 
laced  cocked  hat  with  its  black  cockade  rising  from 
it,  and  went  on  the  deck  once  more. 

Eight  bells  had  struck  and  the  watch  off  were 
still  at  dinner.  Captain  Campbell,  who  rather  prided 
himself  upon  his  forecastle  origin,  had  not  left  the 
deck.  He  was  standing  on  the  weather  side  of  the 
ship  at  the  break  of  the  poop  leaning  against  a  gun, 
eating  hardtack  and  corned  beef,  like  a  common  sail 
or,  from  a  tray  held  by  his  cabin-boy.  The  rude 
fare  was  sweetened  by  draughts  of  Scotch  whisky 
and  water — very  little  water,  by  the  way — and  Cap 
tain  Campbell's  rather  sparing  use  of  the  delecta 
ble  combination  in  no  wise  indicated  the  strength  of 
his  attachment  for  it. 

23  345 


The  guiberon  Touch 

Sailor-like,  Hawke's  first  glance  was  sent  to 
windward.  The  weather  was  just  about  what  it  had 
been — gloomy,  overcast,  threatening,  a  tempest  ap 
parently  brewing  beneath  the  lowering  clouds,  and 
the  first  indications  of  it  already  at  hand.  If  any 
thing,  it  was  changing  for  the  worse,  yet  the  ships 
ahead  of  the  Royal  George  in  their  effort  to  close 
with  the  flying  French  had  increased  their  canvas  to 
the  danger  point. 

The  British  officers  were  carrying  sail  with  an 
unusual  recklessness  of  the  danger  of  losing  spars, 
but  which  at  the  same  time  indicated  their  deter 
mination  to  overhaul  their  enemy  at  all  hazards. 
They  were  able  seamen  all,  and  as  they  watched 
their  ships  with  the  utmost  care,  saving  them  as 
they  could  in  every  squall  which  broke  across  the 
taut-strung  top-hamper,  no  mischance  had  as  yet 
developed. 

Far  ahead  of  the  flag-ship  was  the  Magnanime, 
hitherto  rated  the  fastest  goer  in  the  fleet.  She  had 
been  captured  from  the  French  not  long  before,  and 
represented  the  highest  development  in  naval  archi 
tecture,  and  was  ripping  ahead  at  a  great  rate. 
Strange  to  say,  close  behind  the  Magnanime  came 
the  Warspite  and  the  old  Dorsetshire,  good  English 
bottoms  both.  They  were  pressing  the  French-built 
ship  hard,  and  it  was  easy  to  imagine  Howe's  vexa 
tion  at  being  thus  overhauled. 

Favoured  by  a  slant  of  wind,  they  seemed  to  be 
creeping  up  on  their  rival,  of  whom  they  had  gained 
considerably  the  weather-gage.  To  the  leeward  of 
these  three  was  the  old  Torbay,  also  staggering 

346 


A  Stern  Chase  on  a  Lee-Shore 

along  under  a  heavy  press  of  canvas.  Grafton  was 
driving  her  for  all  she  was  worth,  and  the  old  ship 
had  lost  no  distance  as  compared  with  the  rest.  The 
Montagu  and  the  Resolution  and  the  rest  were  keep 
ing  well  up  too.  Around  the  flag-ship  the  other 
ships  were  taking  station  in  accordance  with  their 
speed  and  the  skill  of  their  officers. 

Of  the  ships  to  leeward  of  Hawke,  the  Union, 
with  Vice-Admiral  Hardy's  flag,  followed  by  the 
Mars  and  the  Hero,  were  appreciably  ahead  of  the 
other  ships  of  that  division.  It  was  doubtful,  how 
ever,  in  view  of  their  leeward  and  rearward  posi 
tion,  whether  they  could  get  into  action  before  night 
or  no.  It  was  a  great  race  between  the  ships  of  the 
fleet,  with  victory,  or  death,  shipwreck,  destruction, 
the  prize  at  the  end  of  it.  And  no  keels  that  ever 
ploughed  the  ocean  were  ever  pushed  harder  than 
these  with  such  ends  in  view. 

As  for  the  Royal  George,  old  Campbell  was  driv 
ing  her  like  a  madman.  The  old  Scotsman  was  be 
ginning  to  lose  his  phlegmatic  coolness  in  the  ex 
citement  of  the  pursuit;  indeed,  he  had  quite  lost  it. 
Though  he  still  preserved  an  outward  semblance  of 
calm,  his  soul  was  burning  within  him,  and,  like  most 
calm  natures, his  emotions  were  the  deeper  and  more 
powerful  when  they  were  finally  aroused.  But  if  he 
was  not  quite  master  of  his  temper  he  was  still  mas 
ter  of  his  ship — never  more  so — and  the  way  he  was 
sending  her  along  was  nothing  less  than  marvel 
lous.  Hawke's  eyes  sparkled  with  pleasure  as  he  saw 
the  results  of  Campbell's  seamanship.  He  still  kept 
all  three  of  the  topgallant-sails  set,  and  he  had  ac- 

347 


The  guiberon  Touch 

tually  flung  out  his  maintopmast  stunsail!  The 
boom  was  bending  like  a  whip  in  the  fierce  wind. 

In  spite  of  her  great  size — and  she  was  one  of 
the  largest  ships  afloat  then — the  huge  liner  was 
being  tossed  about  like  a  cork.  With  everything 
rap  full,  and  drawing  like  a  tide  race,  she  plunged  on. 
The  ebullient  water  foamed  about  her  narrow  cut 
water  and  was  thrown  away  from  her  broad  bows  in 
great  sheets  with  every  forward  plunge.  The  lee- 
chains  were  dragged  under  the  seething  green  seas 
with  every  leeward  roll.  It  was  almost  impossible  to 
keep  the  feet,  so  uneasy  was  the  ship. 

Latterly  the  flag-ship  had  improved  her  position 
under  Campbell's  magnificent  handling,  so  that  she 
was  about  abeam  of  the  Magnanime,  although  the 
latter  ship,  being  far  to  windward  with  her  consorts, 
had  still  greatly  the  advantage  in  the  chase.  But  it 
was  also  evident  that  the  old  Scotsman  had  said 
nothing  less  than  the  truth  to  the  admiral.  If 
the  Royal  George  held  on  as  she  was  going,  she 
would  be  in  time  to  get  into  the  melee  before 
nightfall. 

The  fleet  had,  of  course,  lost  all  semblance  of 
order.  This  was  necessitated  by  the  circumstances, 
and  implied  no  reflection  either  upon  its  discipline 
or  Hawke's  tactics.  It  was  a  general  chase,  and  in 
Campbell's  rough  phrase,  "  Every  mon  for  himsel', 
an'  the  de'il  tak'  the  hindmost!"  It  would  have 
been  pleasant  to  approach  and  attack  the  French  in 
accordance  with  scientific  naval  tactics,  but  what 
could  be  done  when  they  refused  to  wait  for  that 
sort  of  thing?  Their  mad  flight  toward  Quiberon 

348 


A  Stern  Chase  on  a  Lee-Shore 

Bay  precluded  anything  but  the  chase  which  was 
now  going  on. 

The  French  liners  were  probably  laster,  ship 
for  ship,  than  the  English,  but,  as  always  happens 
when  two  fleets  are  opposed,  the  fastest  ships  of  one 
fleet  invariably  have  the  heels  of  the  slowest  ships 
of  the  other,  and  in  a  general  chase  some  of  the 
pursued  are  at  last  overhauled  and  attacked  in  force. 
The  decision  is  thus  forced  upon  the  fleeing  com 
mander  either  to  abandon  his  ships  which  have  been 
attacked,  or  to  join  battle  to  save  them,  thus  defeat 
ing  the  purpose  of  his  flight.  Therefore  the  Eng 
lish  van,  just  as  the  French  rear  passed  Pointe  de 
1'Echelle,  the  eastern  end  of  Belleisle,  and  hauled 
up  for  the  entrance  to  the  bay,  drew  within  long 
gunshot  of  the  rear  ship. 

It  was  not  because  his  flag  floated  over  a  slow 
keel  that  Rear- Admiral  St.  Andre  du  Verger  in  the 
mighty  Formidable  assumed  this  dangerous  posi 
tion;  but  his  native  gallantry  and  heroic  resolution 
made  him  interpose  his  strong  ship  between  the  rest 
of  his  division  and  their  relentless  pursuers  in  the 
hope  that  he  might  thus  effect  their  escape.  Of  the 
French  captains  engaged  that  day,  he,  de  Kersaint, 
and  possibly  one  or  two  others,  came  out  of  the  con 
flict  with  honour  not  only  undimmed,  but  having 
written  their  names  high  on  that  roll  of  heroic  men 
which  is  the  joy  and  pride  of  nations.  For  du  Ver 
ger  and  his  stubborn  fighting  in  the  Formidable 
undoubtedly  did  much  to  save  the  French  fleet  from 
annihilation. 

Just  ahead  of  him  were  L'Heros  and  Le  Mag- 

349 


The   guiberon  Touch 

nifique,  seventy-fours,  Le  Juste  and  Le  Superbe, 
seventy-gun  ships,  Le  Glorieux,  Le  Thesee,  Le  Ro- 
buste,  and  in  the  lead  of  the  division  the  ship  of  de 
Conflans,  Le  Soleil  Royal.  To  leeward  of  this  divi 
sion,  in  a  huddle,  were  Le  Tonnant,  the  flag-ship  of 
de  Beauffremont,  and  the  rest  of  the  French  ships, 
as  their  speed  enabled  them  to  attempt  the  pass. 
All  order  in  the  French  fleet,  as  in  that  of  their  pur 
suers,  had  necessarily  been  abandoned  long  since. 

As  the  afternoon  wore  on  the  wind  increased  in 
violence  until  it  was  now  blowing  a  whole  gale,  with 
prospects  rather  worse  than  better.  The  November 
i  tempest  swooped  down  from  the  west-north-west, 
and  was  driving  the  waters  crashing  upon  the  iron 
cliffs  and  jagged  reefs  with  which  the  shore  abounds, 
with  tremendous  force.  The  breakers  writhed  and 
tore  about  the  splintered  needles  of  rock  which 
pointed  warning  fingers  to  approaching  mariners; 
and,  perhaps  more  dangerous  to  the  ships  because 
less  known  and  not  noticed,  the  seas  rolled  and 
foamed  over  low  banks  of  sand  which  were  hidden 
from  view  until  the  observer  was  almost  upon  them. 
It  was  cold  and  raw,  and  the  men  were  chilled  to 
the  bone  until  the  excitement  of  the  conflict  so 
heated  them  that  they  forgot  these  things.  Before 
both  fleets,  and  in  plain  sight  from  the  decks,  lay 
that  deadliest  of  perils  to  mariners,  a  stern  lee-shore. 
On  this  gray,  gloomy  November  day,  in  these 
perilous  waters,  amid  these  ghastly  dangers,  the  two 
fleets,  aggregating  forty-four  great  ships,  carrying 
three  thousand  guns,  and  manned  by  upward  of 
thirty  thousand  men,  the  one  fleet  flying  in  mad 

350 


A  Stern   Chase  on  a  Lee- Shore 

terror,  which  appeared  to  deepen  with  every  mo 
ment — the  penalty  of  flight — the  other  pursuing 
with  a  grim  determination)  which  the  ever-lessening 
distance  between  them  and  their  prey  heightened 
and  intensified — the  reward  of  pursuit — prepared 
to  engage  in  mortal  combat.  Nature  provided  a 
grand  yet  terrible  scene  for  the  action,  a  fitting  set 
ting  for  the  horrors  of  the  battle. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances,  no  commander 
would  have  dared  to  attempt  to  make  the  harbour 
with  a  fleet  of  ships  in  such  weather,  but  in  the  face 
of  the  howling  gale  then  blowing  would  have  beat 
en  out  to  sea  at  every  hazard,  straining  every  nerve 
in  a  resolute  endeavour  to  make  an  offing,  and  thus 
enable  his  ships  to  escape  from  the  perils  of  that 
lee-shore.  But  the  circumstances  were  not  ordi 
nary.  Hawke  felt  that  he  must  destroy  that  fleet, 
and  destroy  it  then.  If  he  lost  the  opportunity  now, 
he  might  never  have  another  chance,  so  he  relent 
lessly  hurled  his  great  ships  upon  the  flying  French 
crowding  together  at  the  entrance  of  the  bay. 

"  I  ken  they're  gangin'  in  all  right,"  remarked 
the  old  captain  to  his  admiral ;  "  the  van  must  be  off 
the  west  end  of  Hae'dik  noo,  sir." 

"  Yes,  where  else  would  they  go?  De  Conflans 
evidently  hopes  to  get  his  fleet  past  the  entrance 
and  then  ratch  up  under  the  lee  of  the  islands  and 
force  us  to  follow  him  in  succession,  and  fight  him 
to  windward  of  us." 

"  Tis  a  verra  pretty  plan,  indeed,  if  he  could 
mak'  it." 

"  He  can't,  though,"  said  Hawke.    "  Look  at  the 


The  guiberon  Touch 

Warspite,  and  the  Magnanime,  and  the  Dorsetshire, 
and  the  Torbay.  They  are  close  on  the  heels  of  the 
French  rear  now.  By  Heaven,  did  ever  man  have  a 
nobler  band  of  captains  than  those?  Ha!  What's 
that?  " 

"  The  French  are  beginnin'  to  bark,  I'm  think- 
in',"  said  Campbell,  as  a  puff  of  smoke  broke  out 
on  the  Formidable,  followed  some  moments  after 
by  a  dull  roar  coming  faintly  against  the  wind.  As 
the  French  ships  bore  up  slightly  in  the  wake  of  de 
Conflans,  they  turned  their  broadsides  a  little  toward 
the  approaching  English  to  windward  and  some  of 
their  guns  bore.  Presently  L'Heros  spoke,  and 
then  Le  Thesee.  But  the  English  ships  kept  on 
in  grim,  dour  silence.  So  splendid  was  the  disci 
pline  enforced  upon  them  by  Hawke  that  not  one 
of  them  ventured  to  make  any  reply  whatever,  al 
though  the  constraint  put  upon  them  by  the  ad 
miral's  failure  to  signal  them  to  begin  the  game  was 
heart-breaking. 

"  Mightn't  it  be  well,  Sir  Ed'ard,"  asked  the  old 
captain,  who  was  a  privileged  character,  "  to  give 
'em  a  taste  o'  our  metal?  " 

"  Not  yet,  Campbell,"  said  Hawke,  "  they 
haven't  done  any  damage  yet.  We'll  let  the  van 
get  a  little  closer  before — ha,  there  they  go  again! 
This  grows  interesting,"  remarked  the  admiral,  as 
the  guns  of  the  French  rear  roared  out  once  more. 

The  old  Scotsman,  whose  coolness  was  now  all 
gone  in  his  excitement,  while  the  previous  excite 
ment  of  Hawke  gave  place  to  a  calmness  which 
deepened  as  the  emergency  developed,  shuffled  un- 

352 


A  Stern  Chase  on  a  Lee-Shore 

easily  as  he  watched  the  French  ships  firing  upon 
the  still  English  making  no  reply;  but  there  were 
limits  beyond  which  even  his  privileges  did  not  ex 
tend. 

There  was  something  awful  in  the  silent  ap 
proach  of  those  English  war  monsters.  Still-footed 
fate  itself  seemed  not  more  terrible  to  the  French. 
Were  their  pursuers  never  to  speak?  In  mad  ex 
citement,  which  vitiated  their  aim,  they  poured 
forth  their  fire  upon  their  menacing  pursuers.  Into 
the  flame  and  smoke  the  English  swept  on. 

Campbell  looked  keenly  at  his  commander 
standing  composed  and  quiet,  balancing  his  huge 
frame  easily  to  the  roll  of  the  ship  as  he  stared  out 
to  windward,  compressing  his  lips,  his  brow  bee 
tling,  the  sparkle  in  his  eyes  and  the  stern  smile  on 
his  lip  proclaiming  the  battle  fire  in  his  heart. 
Hawke  had  marked  the  hurry  and  haste  of  the 
French ;  he  could  see  that  their  fire  was  doing  little 
or  no  damage,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  begin  the 
action  until  his  ships  were  near  enough  to  make 
their  broadsides  tell.  He  was  taking  a  risk,  of 
course,  for  a  lucky  shot  might  carry  away  a  spar 
and  throw  an  English  ship  out  of  action.  Still, 
there  was  always  that  risk,  and  as  the  advantage  of 
crushing  blows  was  so  great  when  they  could  be 
delivered,  he  boldly  assumed  the  risk  and  remained 
silent. 

It  was  another  evidence  of  that  quality  and  habit 
of  decision  which  had  made  him  great;  which  had 
enabled  him  to  maintain  his  unheard-of  blockade; 
which  had  determined  the  pursuit  of  that  day;  which 

353 


The  guiberon  Touch 

made  him  resolute  to  engage;  which  was  to  be  ex 
hibited  in  other  ways  before  the  nightfall^  and  to 
his  eternal  fame!  At  last  the  Scotsman  ventured  to 
turn  to  the  signal  officer,  and,  taking  care  that 
Hawke  did  not  hear  his  words,  quietly  bade  him 
bend  on  the  flags  and  have  all  in  readiness  to  give 
the  signal. 

"  I  have  them  ready  now,  sir,"  whispered  Ver- 
non,  displaying  the  flags  already  bent  to  the  hal 
liards. 

Campbell  would  have  given  worlds  to  have  or 
dered  them  hoisted,  but  of  course  he  dared  not  do 
so.  He  fairly  wrung  his  hands  in  his  anxiety. 

"  Surely,"  whispered  the  captain  to  the  young 
man  at  last,  "  Sir  Ed'ard  must  order  them  set  now!  " 

"  Ha,"  exclaimed  Hawke,  who  did  not  even 
yet  consider  it  necessary  to  give  the  signal,  "  how 
they  race  along!  Did  you  ever  see  such  magnifi 
cent  sailing?  " 

"  I'm  thinkin'  we're  doin'  pretty  weel  oursel's, 
sir,"  remarked  the  captain,  jealous  for  his  own  ship. 

"  You  are.  Look  at  that  stuns'l  boom!  Tis 
bent  like  a  bow  and  quivering  like  a  reed." 

On  principle,  Hawke  rarely  ever  interfered  with 
the  internal  administration  of  the  sailing  of  his  flag 
ships,  and  for  that  reason  he  was  more  beloved  by 
his  flag-captains  than  almost  any  commander  that 
ever  sailed.  Beyond  this  significant  remark,  there 
fore,  he  said  nothing  about  the  advisability  of  tak 
ing  in  the  studding-sail,  but  Campbell  was  shrewd 
enough  to  divine  what  was  in  his  superior's  mind. 

"  Ay,  Sir  Ed'ard,"  he  replied  in  answer  to  the 

354 


A  Stern  Chase  on  a  Lee-Shore 

other's  unspoken  comment,  "  'tis  like  to  carry  away 
at  any  moment;  but  we  can  afford  to  expend  it,  an', 
so  long  as  'tis  set,  perhaps  it  gains  us  a  fathom  more 
of  distance,  an'  damme,  sir,  beggin'  your  pardon, 
Admiral  Hawke,  the  old  Geordie's  just  got  to  get  in 
to  the  battle  yon!" 

"  Keep  it  set  if  you  will,  Campbell;  indeed,  I 
think  'tis  too  late  to  take  it  in  now,"  laughed  the 
commander;  "  this  is  your  ship,  and " 

There  was  a  crash  over  their  heads. 

"  There  it  goes!  "  cried  the  admiral,  as  the  boom 
parted  at  the  iron  and  the  sail  was  whipped  away 
from  its  supports  in  a  moment  by  the  gale. 

"  'Twas  a  noble  stick,  Sir  Ed'ard,"  said  the  old 
Scotsman,  "  and  hae  done  us  noble  service.  I  ex 
pend  it  gladly." 

"  Look  yonder,  now,"  said  Hawke,  "  how  they 
have  weathered  on  the  French!  The  Warspite  is 
abeam  of  the  Formidable  now.  The  Dorsetshire  is 
close  in.  The  Magnanime  is  on  the  quarter  and 
the  Torbay  is  coming  up  to  leeward.  They  are  all 
within  gunshot.  Now  is  our  time.  Mr.  Vernon, 
show  the  signal  to  engage." 

The  signal  quarter-master  ran  up  the  little  tight 
ly  rolled  balls  of  flags  to  the  masts  with  astonishing 
celerity,  breaking  the  stops  ere  they  had  reached  the 
truck.  The  wind  blew  the  signal  flags  out  like 
boards. 


355 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 

THE    BATTLE    IN    THE    STORM 

THE  men  of  the  leading  English  ships  had  been 
waiting  with  feverish  impatience  for  this  signal.  Be 
fore  they  could  fairly  show  their  answering  pennants 
their  sides  were  wreathed  in  flame  and  smoke,  and 
the  first  three  ships  poured  in  a  furious  fire  upon  the 
Formidable.  At  the  same  time  Howe,  in  the  Mag- 
nanime,  sheered  in  to  close  with  the  French  rear- 
admiral,  with  whom  he  at  once  joined  in  fierce  en 
gagement. 

The  Warspite  and  the  Dorsetshire,  after  the  first 
broadside,  kept  on  after  the  French  van,  pouring 
their  shot  into  L'Heros  and  Le  Thesee  as  they  came 
within  range.  At  the  same  time  the  Torbay,  to  lee 
ward  of  the  line,  opened  fire.  As  she  swept  along 
she  hotly  engaged  Le  Magnifique  and  Le  Glorieux, 
who  were  to  leeward  of  the  other  three.  Grafton, 
however,  kept  working  to  windward  all  the  time  to 
reach  Le  Thesee,  which  was  heroically  supporting 
the  rear-admiral  and  furiously  assaulting  the  Eng 
lish  ships  as  they  approached. 

It  was  half  after  two  o'clock.  Not  much  more 
than  two  hours  of  daylight  were  now  left  them,  but 
the  battle  was  at  last  begun.  There  would  be  time 
for  much. 

356 


The  Battle  in  the  Storm 

"  You  would  better  send  the  men  to  their  quar 
ters  now,  Captain  Campbell,  and  make  preparations 
for  action,  as  we  are  overhauling  them  fast,"  said 
Hawke  quietly,  his  face  filled  with  light  as  he 
marked  the  splendid  behaviour  of  his  captains. 

The  drummers  had  been  waiting  below  on 
the  quarter-deck  in  anticipation  of  just  such  an 
order.  As  the  captain  nodded  his  head,  the  stirring 
beat  to  quarters  which  had  called  men  to  battle  for 
centuries — and  which  calls  them  still  when  need  re 
quires — rang  out  over  the  great  decks.  Singular, 
that  the  beat  upon  the  stretched  skin  of  the  most 
cowardly  of  animals  should  produce  such  an  effect 
as  followed: 

In  an  instant  the  ship  was  a  scene  of  apparent 
confusion,  out  of  which,  with  marvellous  speed,  the 
trained  and  disciplined  officers  evolved  the  fighting 
properties  of  the  formidable  machine.  The  guns 
were  cast  loose  and  provided,  the  men  armed,  and 
everything  made  ready  for  the  approaching  con 
flict.  This  done,  they  settled  down  at  their  sta 
tions  and  waited;  those  whose  position  aloft  or 
on  deck  permitted  them  to  do  so  watching  the 
battle  ahead. 

Presently  the  Defiance  and  the  Montagu  joined 
in  the  melee  which  now  involved  a  half  dozen  of  the 
French  ships.  Seizing  an  opportunity,  the  Mag- 
nanime  swung  to  leeward,  and,  crossing  the  bows  of 
the  Formidable,  raked  her  fearfully  as  she  passed. 
At  the  same  time  the  Swiftsure  and  the  Revenge, 
sweeping  along  to  leeward,  enveloped  the  unfortu 
nate  rear-admiral  in  another  terrific  discharge. 

357 


The  guiberon  Touch 

Then,  as  the  ships  drove  ahead,  their  place  was 
taken  by  the  Resolution,  which  clung  to  the  wind 
ward  side  of  the  fighting  admiral  with  a  bulldog 
tenacity,  and  could  not  be  shaken  off  in  spite  of 
the  furious  fire  of  the  lower  ship.  The  English 
had  made  a  chopping-block  of  the  unfortunate 
Frenchman,  yet  his  courage  was  magnificent — he 
fought  on. 

Meanwhile  the  Warspite,  temporarily  disabled 
by  an  unlucky  shot,  drifted  back  through  the  line, 
and  as  the  Montagu  burst  into  the  smoke  of  the  con 
flict  the  unmanageable  ship  drove  into  her,  and  both 
together  fouled  the  Magnanime.  The  Formidable 
from  her  lee  guns  poured  a  damaging  fire  upon  the 
group  grinding  and  churning  against  each  other  in 
the  awful  sea. 

The  French  admiral  was  fighting  with  desperate 
and  splendid  valour.  Though  severely  wounded 
early  in  the  action,  he  refused  to  be  taken  below, 
and  sat  in  a  chair  on  deck  directing  the  combat. 
His  own  ship  had  been  almost  dismasted.  She  was, 
therefore,  practically  stationary  in  the  water,  and 
every  passing  English  vessel  in  pursuit  of  the  van, 
including,  finally,  the  Royal  George,  made  her  the 
target  for  a  free  discharge.  But  the  broken  ship 
still  fought;  her  guns  roared  on.  Finally  the  gal 
lant  admiral  was  killed,  and  with  a  loss  of  upward  of 
five  hundred  killed  and  wounded  on  board  her,  in 
cluding  the  admiral's  brother,  the  captain  of  the  ship, 
the  flag  was  hauled  down  and  she  struck  to  the 
Resolution,  which  immediately  took  possession. 
It  was  a  little  after  four  in  the  afternoon.  For  two 

358 


The  Battle  in  the  Storm 

hours  the  Formidable  had  fought  half  the  English 
fleet.  Her  action  had  been  heroic.  In  the  English 
admiral's  enthusiastic  phrase,  his  own  men  were 
"  fighting  like  angels,"  too. 

Meanwhile  Howe,  in  the  Magnanime,  had  at 
last  succeeded  in  getting  clear  of  the  two  ships 
which  had  fouled  him,  and,  after  exchanging  broad 
sides  with  Le  Thesee,  had  furiously  engaged  L'He- 
ros,  a  ship  of  equal  force  with  his  own.  The  two 
vessels  clung  to  each  other  as  they  surged  ahead, 
pouring  streams  of  shot  and  fire  upon  each  other, 
until  finally,  just  at  dark,  the  French  ship  struck. 
It  was  too  rough  to  take  possession  then,  and  in 
obedience  to  signal  both  ships  anchored.  The  De 
fiance  and  Revenge  and  Swiftsure  were  all  of  them 
in  close  action.  They  were  scattered  everywhere 
among  the  French  ships,  some  of  them  hotly  en 
gaged  with  both  batteries,  and  giving  splendid  ac 
counts  of  themselves. 

At  four  o'clock  the  Royal  George  at  last  got 
within  striking  distance.  Reeling  through  the  hud 
dled  French,  pouring  out  his  broadsides  to  lar 
board  and  to  starboard,  crashing  through  sea  and 
smoke  and  fire,  the  flag-ship  drove  on,  dealing  death 
and  destruction  everywhere.  Conflans  had  already 
rounded  the  Cardinals,  and,  having  hauled  his  wind, 
headed  up  the  bay,  followed  by  a  large  number  of 
his  ships.  Hawke  ordered  the  Royal  George  to  be 
headed  straight  for  them,  on  the  hypotenuse  of  the 
triangle,  as  it  were.  Campbell  happened  to  be  be 
low  in  the  batteries  at  the  time.  Hawke  personally 
directed  the  movement  of  the  ship,  and  called 

359 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

the  master,  the  navigating  officer  in  those  days,  to 
his  side. 

"  Lay  me  alongside  that  ship,  sir,"  he  said  quick 
ly,  pointing  to  Le  Soleil  Royal. 

"  I  can't  do  it,  Sir  Ed'ard,"  replied  the  old  man, 
"  there's  not  enough  water  off  there  for  us.  The 
ship'll  be  wrecked,  sir." 

'  You  have  done  your  duty,"  answered  Hawke, 
"  in  pointing  out  the  danger.  Now  lay  me  along 
side  that  ship." 

"  There  is  no  pass,  sir." 

"  They  passed,"  said  the  admiral,  "  so  can  we." 

"  But  we  have  no  pilot." 

"  Follow  them.  They  will  pilot  us  in.  Where 
they  go  we  can  go,  and  if  they  strike  on  the  rocks 
that  will  show  us  what  to  avoid.  Enough!"  he 
cried  peremptorily.  "  Carry  out  my  orders,  sir!  " 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  said  the  old  master  sadly,  but 
not  daring  to  remonstrate  further,  giving  the  neces 
sary  directions. 

The  ship  was  right  off  the  Grand  Cardinals  now, 
so  close,  indeed,  that  a  biscuit  could  have  been  tossed 
on  them.  Every  moment  might  be  their  last.  Even 
old  Campbell,  with  all  his  recklessness,  when  he 
came  on  deck  during  the  manoeuvre  ran  forward  and 
stood  between  the  knightheads,  staring  down  at  the 
breakers  seething  ahead,  and  expecting  every  sec 
ond  to  hear  that  long,  shuddering,  ripping  crash 
and  feel  the  awful  shock  which  would  tell  them  they 
were  on  the  reefs.  Going  at  such  a  pace  and  in  such 
a  sea,  one  touch  meant  destruction. 

It  was  such  a  scene  as  almost  appals  the  imagi- 
360 


The  Battle  in  the  Storm 

nation.  Around  them  a  great  huddle  of  huge  ships, 
tossing  and  rolling  in  the  mighty  billows,  were 
belching  forth  fire  and  shot  on  every  side.  Out  of 
the  driven  smoke,  under  the  lowering  clouds  of  the 
fast-closing  winter  day,  came  the  hurtling  mes 
sengers  of  death;  and  the  awful  roar  of  the  cannon 
ade  mingled  and  blended  with  the  shriek  and  scream 
of  the  wind  through  the  top-hamper  in  a  hideous 
conglomeration  of  sound.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
mighty  tempest  itself  had  sought  to  hold  in  check 
the  furious  wrath  of  men — and  had  failed. 

The  blood  of  the  English  was  up.  They  recked 
nothing  of  danger.  As  Hawke  reasoned,  they  might 
lose  a  ship  or  two  against  the  rocks,  but  there  were 
the  French.  When  he  got  through  with  them  their 
coherent  existence  as  a  fleet  would  be  a  thing  of  the 
past. 

He  was  nearing  the  ship  of  de  Conflans  now, 
approaching  to  leeward.  The  spectators,  grouped 
in  thousands  upon  the  adjacent  shores  watching  this 
awful  display  of  the  powers  of  nature  and  the  pas 
sions  of  men,  marked  the  blue  flag  of  the  English 
admiral  closing  upon  the  white  flag  of  the  French 
marshal.  But  before  they  joined,  the  captain  of  Le 
Superbe,  a  fine  seventy-gun  ship,  gallantly  inter 
posed  with  his  smaller  vessel  between  his  own  cap 
tain  and  the  great  liner  of  Sir  Edward  Hawke,  hurl 
ing  upon  her,  as  his  broadside  bore,  a  wild  and  in 
effectual  fire. 

"  Now,  Campbell,"  said  Hawke  quickly,  "  keep 
all  fast  in  the  batteries  until  we  are  right  on  her, 
and  then  pour  it  in.  Ay,  open  the  main-deck  ports 
24  361 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

for  a  moment.  I'll  throw  her  up  into  the  wind  a 
little  to  relieve  her  heel,  and  we'll  settle  this  fellow 
with  one  blow." 

In  grim  silence,  therefore,  the  Royal  George 
closed  with  Le  Superbe,  now  wreathed  and  shroud 
ed  in  smoke  and  flame  from  her  own  guns. 

"  Go  below,  yourself,  Campbell,  to  the  main- 
deck  and  watch  those  ports.  Let  no  man  fire  until 
I  give  the  order.  I  will  con  the  ship,"  said  Hawke, 
at  last,  as  they  drew  nearer;  "  we  will  wipe  out  this 
one,  and  then  for  Conflans." 

They  were  right  abreast  now  and  close  aboard 
of  Le  Superbe.  The  huge  guns  of  the  Royal 
George  were  swinging  right  and  left,  converging 
upon  her,  the  gun  captains,  burning  match  in  hand, 
taking  long  and  steady  aim. 

"Stand  by!"  the  admiral  shouted  with  all  his 
power  in  a  voice  heard  in  every  dim  recess  of  the 
mighty  ship  beneath  him. 

"  Fire!  " 

The  very  heavens  were  blasted  by  the  concus 
sion  of  the  broadside.  The  English  ship  shrank 
back  and  shuddered  from  her  own  discharge.  For  a 
second  it  seemed  as  if  the  wind  itself  stood  still.  At 
close  range  such  a  mighty  broadside  from  every  gun 
on  the  great  three-deckef  was  hurled  upon  the  de 
voted  Superbe  that  she  was  literally  torn  to  pieces. 
The  heavy  shot  from  the  forty-two  pounders  on  the 
main-deck  of  the  Royal  George  ripped  through  and 
through  her  as  if  she  had  been  paper.  Her  masts 
and  spars  crashed  down,  and  in  the  midst  of  that 
awful  storm  she  filled  with  water  and  sank  in  less 

362 


The  Battle  in  the  Storm 

than  a  minute.  There  were  not  twenty  people  on 
her  who  were  saved.  The  catastrophe  was  so  sud 
den  and  appalling  that  the  English  had  neither 
time  nor  inclination  to  cheer.  But  there  was  no 
hesitation  on  Hawke's  part.  There  were  still  foe- 
men  on  the  sea. 

A  sheer  of  the  helm  brought  the  English  flag 
ship  closer  to  the  French.  Another  second  and  the 
two  broadsides  spoke.  Heeling  over  and  over  un 
der  the  tremendous  pressure  of  the  wind,  now 
abeam  of  them,  with  their  rigging  blown  out  in 
huge  circles  to  leeward,  the  great  ships  struggled 
on.  The  men  stood  on  the  wet,  slanting  decks,  the 
spray  beating  upon  them  as  they  clustered  about 
the  guns  and  poured  shot  and  shell  into  each  other. 
But  only  for  a  moment  was  de  Conflans  left  alone 
with  Hawke. 

The  flag-ship  of  de  Beauffremont  ranged  along 
the  unengaged  side  of  the  Royal  George  and  joined 
in  the  action.  Other  French  ships  rallied  to  the 
support  of  their  commander,  and  at  one  time  no  less 
than  seven  of  them  were  firing  upon  the  Royal 
George.  Their  very  number  gave  the  undaunted 
Hawke  a  certain  immunity,  for  they  were  unable 
in  the  midst  of  the  storm  to  take  positions  of  advan 
tage,  and  in  their  excitement  they  shot  badly,  dam 
aging  each  other — a  thing  which  might  be  said  of 
all  the  French  ships  that  day  except  Le  Formidable 
and  Le  Thesee,  perhaps. 

It  was  five  o'clock  now  and  quite  dark.  But 
Hawke  coolly  fought  on  against  the  mighty  odds, 
until  at  last  some  of  his  own  ships  struggled  up  to 

363 


The  guiberon  Touch 

succour  him.  The  Revenge  and  the  Montagu  came 
to  his  assistance,  crashing  into  the  mass  of  the 
French  surrounding  him.  Farther  away  the  Union, 
the  Mars,  and  the  Hero,  with  other  ships  of  Hardy's 
division,  at  last  within  range,  opened  fire  upon  the 
French.  But  the  little  conflict  continued  until  the 
night  fell  completely,  when  the  French  ships  turned 
tail  and  fled  in  every  direction.  The  magnificent 
Soleil  Royal  was  a  wreck,  masts  gone,  covered  with 
dead  and  wounded,  she  little  resembled  the  proud 
ship  of  the  morning. 

All  that  mortal  man  could  do  had  been  done  by 
the  English.  It  was  absolutely  impossible  for 
Hawke  and  his  commanders  to  follow  the  French 
ships  in  the  darkness  in  these  waters.  The  wind  was 
still  rising.  It  was  blowing  a  hurricane  now. 
Hawke  at  last  gave  the  signal  to  anchor — two  guns 
fired  in  succession.  Some  of  the  ships  heard  it  and 
obeyed,  others  did  not,  and  beat  out  to  sea  again 
to  gain  an  offing  and  escape  the  perils  of  the  reefs 
and  shore.  The  battle  was  over,  but  only  the  morn 
ing  would  tell  the  story  of  their  success  and  loss. 


364 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

THE    SINISTER    EFFACEMENT    OF    A    SHIP 

MEANWHILE,  what  of  Grafton  and  the  Torbay? 
As  we  have  seen,  he  had  first  engaged  Le  For 
midable  and  poured  his  broadsides  into  L'Heros 
and  Le  Magnifique,  and  had  successfully  hammered 
his  way  through  the  French  rear  until  he  brought 
his  vessel  alongside  Le  Thesee. 

De  Kersaint  had  well  and  worthily  upheld  his 
reputation  as  a  skilled  seaman  and  a  great  fighter 
upon  that  day,  and  all  of  the  advancing  British 
ships  bore  the  marks  of  his  prowess.  It  so  hap 
pened  that  neither  Le  Thesee  nor  the  Torbay  had 
been  materially  injured  in  their  previous  fighting, 
and  it  also  happened  that  the  chance  arrangements 
of  the  battle,  which  placed  them  side  by  side,  left 
them  to  fight  it  out  unhindered.  Never  were  two 
ships  more  fairly  and  equally  matched  in  size,  gun- 
power,  crew,  and  captain. 

Grafton  had  no  personal  animosity  toward  de 
Kersaint.  On  the  contrary,  he  had  pursued  him  as 
a  foeman  entirely  worthy  of  his  steel.  He  knew  the 
man,  and  that  he  would  certainly  be  found  in  the 
thick  of  the  action.  He  trusted  to  compel  him  to 
strike,  in  which  case  he  could  at  once  obtain  pos- 

365 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

session  of  Anne — and  that  was  the  guiding  hope  of 
his  heart.  Other  captains  might  be  fighting  for 
duty  alone,  or  for  the  sheer  love  of  the  combat;  he 
was  swayed  by  all  of  these  emotions,  but  he  fought 
for  love,  too — for  a  woman,  his  wife ! 

He  resolutely  put  out  of  his  mind  the  peril  she 
would  be  in.  He  had  to  do  it.  To  dwell  upon  it 
would  have  unnerved  him.  Like  most  men  of  action, 
he  was  something  of  a  fatalist,  and  he  believed  that 
Providence,  which  had  brought  about  the  present 
state  of  affairs,  would  inevitably  bring  them  to 
gether  again  happily  in  the  end.  He  knew  that 
some  one  had  to  fire  upon  Le  Thesee,  and  he  pre 
ferred  to  do  it  himself.  He  reassured  himself  by 
thinking  that  Anne  was  stowed  away  safely  in  the 
chain-lockers — which  was  true — and  that  her  peril 
would  not  be  great. 

At  any  rate,  he  found  himself  at  last  alongside 
his  desire,  but  to  leeward,  a  fact  which,  though  he 
deplored  it  at  the  time,  afterward  turned  out  fortu 
nately  for  him.  The  leeward  ship  practically  has 
to  await  the  decision  of  the  weather  ship,  which  may 
attack  at  pleasure,  hence  the  advantage  of  the  wind 
ward  position.  The  windward  enemy  may  attack  or 
wait,  the  leeward  must  wait  or  run. 

De  Keisaint  had  no  idea  of  retreating,  however. 
His  national  hatred  of  all  Englishmen  had  at  last 
got  itself  localized  and  was  correspondingly  deadly 
and  bitter.  He  had  learned — indeed,  it  had  been 
impossible  to  conceal  it  from  him — that  his  prom 
ised  bride  had  been  married  to  Captain  Grafton. 
He  hoped  and  intended  to  kill  the  Englishman 

366 


The   Sinister   Effacement  of  a  Ship 

sometime,  perhaps  on  that  day  of  battle,  and  then 
marry  the  woman  he  loved,  as  if  that  previous  mar 
riage  had  never  taken  place.  Her  loss  only  intensi 
fied  his  love  for  her. 

She  did  not  love  him,  evidently;  indeed,  she 
made  no  secret  of  her  love  for  her  husband.  What 
mattered  it?  The  passion  of  the  old  makes  up  in 
intensity  and  persistence  for  the  lost  opportunities 
of  youth.  The  follies  of  love — the  greatest  follies, 
that  is,  after  all — are  the  follies  not  of  youth  but  of 
old  age!  He  would  have  her,  anyway,  with  or  with 
out  her  love,  in  the  end.  De  Kersaint  had  surmised 
that  Grafton  would  certainly  be  upon  one  of  the 
ships  of  Hawke's  fleet,  though  upon  which  one  he 
could  not,  of  course,  determine. 

The  two  ships  were  very  close  together  before 
they  engaged,  each  reserving  his  fire  for  a  smashing 
blow,  and  the  men  on  the  poop-decks  were  already 
clearly  visible  to  each  other.  Grafton  could  see 
the  huge  form  of  de  Kersaint  standing  to  lee 
ward,  looking  at  the  Torbay  as  she  came  up.  By 
his  side  stood  the  tall,  thin  form  of  the  old  marquis. 
Behind  him  rose  the  burly  person  of  faithful  Jean- 
Renaud. 

They  had  embarked,  as  the  marquis  had  declared, 
then.  In  order  to  get  a  better  view  of  them  Graf- 
ton  sprang  up  on  the  rail,  and,  steadying  himself  by 
the  backstay,  stared  hard  at  the  little  group  on  Le 
Thesee.  Where  was  his  wife,  he  wondered,  with  a 
word  of  quick  prayer.  Anxiety  unspeakable  filled 
his  soul. 

At  the  same  moment  the  Frenchmen  recognised 
367 


The  guiberon  Touch 

him.  The  marquis  pointed  him  out  to  de  Kersaint. 
The  count  flung  his  hand  to  heaven  in  a  gesture  half 
of  rapture,  half  of  prayer,  and  shouted  an  order  for 
Le  Thesee  to  put  up  her  helm  and  swing  toward 
the  Torbay.  Joy  was  in  the  Breton's  heart  and  sav 
age  determination.  The  opportunity  he  had  prayed 
for  was  granted  him. 

"  He's  coming!  "  cried  Grafton  to  the  men  of 
his  staff,  as  he  saw  the  movement.  "To  the  batteries, 

gentlemen!  Tell  them  to  be  ready By  Heaven, 

he's  opening  his  main-deck  ports  in  such  a  sea! 
We'll  not  be  outdone  by  him.  And  his  is  the  greater 
risk.  Have  our  main  batteries  scaled." 

He  welcomed  the  attack  with  a  fierce  pleasure; 
the  distraction  of  action  alone  saved  him  from 
breaking  his  heart.  A  short  space  of  water  and 
two  wooden  walls  separated  him  from  his  wife — so 
little,  yet  the  water  was  lashed  into  mad  turbulence 
by  the  tempest,  and  the  wooden  walls  were  pierced 
by  a  hundred  guns  ready  to  sweep  him  from  the 
sea.  Yet  he  would  have  her! 

Both  ships  were,  of  course,  heeled  to  the  wind, 
but  Le  Thesee,  being  to  windward,  was  forced  to 
fight  her  lee  battery;  and  the  main-deck  ports,  as  she 
lay  over  under  the  furious  gale,  were  so  close  to  the 
waves  that  the  waters  splashed  and  rippled  over  the 
port-sills  with  every  roll.  It  was  reckless  trifling 
with  the  deadliest  of  perils,  but  that  he  could  do  so 
indicated  the  emotions  animating  the  soul  of  the 
French  captain.  Grafton,  being  to  leeward,  fought 
his  windward  guns,  and  the  inclination  of  the  ship 
lifted  his  own  main-deck  battery  a  little  farther 

368 


The   Sinister   Effacement  of  a  Ship 

above  the  water.  Still,  his  own  position  was  also 
dangerous  in  the  extreme. 

Hawke  had  opened  his  main-deck  ports,  but  it 
was  in  the  stiller  waters  of  the  bay  that  he  had  done 
so.  Grafton  and  de  Kersaint  were  yet  off  the  Car 
dinals,  the  very  roughest,  stormiest  position  in  the 
melee  taking  place  all  about  them.  Their  action 
was  madness;  yet,  if  the  Frenchman  did  it  in  his 
overwhelming  desire  to  crush  the  man  who  had 
stolen  his  bride,  and  now  rolled  along  under  his  lee, 
the  Englishman  could  do  no  less  than  meet  him. 

Simultaneously  the  two  broadsides  roared  out. 
Again  and  again,  as  the  ships  swept  on,  they  poured 
a  torrent  of  destruction  upon  each  other  from  every 
gun  that  bore.  The  firing  upon  both  sides  was  fast 
and  furious,  but  the  English,  with  the  advantage  of 
the  weather  battery,  proved  the  better  gunners. 
Many  of  the  shot  from  the  French  ship  struck  the 
water  and  glanced  over  the  English  ship,  but  the 
steady  broadside  from  the  Torbay  made  deadly 
havoc  on  the  magnificent  French  liner.  Yet  her 
offensive  powers  seemed  undiminished,  and  she 
fought  on.  The  Torbay,  too,  soon  began  to  show 
evidences  of  the  terrific  pounding  she  was  receiv 
ing.  Both  ships  were  filled  with  dead  and  wounded 
men  and  were  much  cut  up  alow  and  aloft. 

Grafton  fought  to  win  his  wife,  to  serve  his  coun 
try,  to  avenge  the  shattering  of  the  little  Boxer  five 
years  before,  and  with  no  bitterness  in  his  heart. 
De  Kersaint  fought  not  only  for  the  honour  of 
France,  but  with  a  jealous  rage  in  his  heart  to  kill 
the  man  who  stood  between  him  and  his  hopes. 

369 


The   guiberon  Touch 

Neither  would  be  denied.  They  drew  nearer  to  each 
other.  De  Kersaint  resolved  to  resort  to  a  coup  de 
main.  Grafton  also  at  last  made  up  his  mind  that 
he  would  have  to  carry  the  opposing  ship  by  board 
ing,  which  was  quite  in  consonance  with  his  desire. 
He  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to  call  his  boarders 
away,  when  a  sudden  squall  struck  the  two  ships. 
For  the  moment  the  wind  blew  a  hurricane. 

The  two  vessels  heeled  suddenly  under  the  ter 
rific  impact,  going  over  and  over  under  the  irre 
sistible  pressure  until  they  lay  almost  upon  their 
beam-ends.  De  Kersaint  put  the  helm  of  Le  Thesee 
hard  down  at  once.  But  she  did  not  respond.  The 
water  rushed  in  her  open  ports.  She  began  to  set 
tle  like  a  stone,  righting  slowly  as  she  went  down. 
The  Torbay  was  scarcely  in  better  condition.  On 
the  return  roll  to  windward  the  water  began  to  rush 
in  her  main-deck  ports  also. 

"Close  the  main-deck  ports!"  shouted  Graf- 
ton,  as  he  saw  the  French  ship  going  so  fast,  his 
first  impulse  being  to  save  his  own  ship.  "  Lively, 
for  God's  sake!  "  The  peril  of  the  ship  was  reflected 
in  his  voice. 

The  men  below  sprang  to  the  port-shutters, 
and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  water  was  already 
sweeping  in,  by  superhuman  efforts  they  got  them 
closed,  but  not  until  the  ship  had  been  half  filled. 
She  lay  like  a  sodden  log  in  the  waves,  six  feet  of 
water  in  the  hold.  The  gun  fire  had  ceased  instantly. 

Meantime,  what  of  Le  Thesee? 

Grafton  stood  in  the  darkening  evening  on  the 
rail  of  his  own  ship  and  stared  at  his  rival.  She  was 

370 


The   Sinister    Effacement  of  a  Ship 

sinking  in  silence.  No  human  power  could  keep  her 
afloat.  Before  his  eyes  the  water  was  streaming 
through  the  open  ports  and  gushing  in  through  her 
riven  sides.  It  had  come  so  suddenly  that  there  was 
scarcely  time  for  those  below  to  reach  the  spar-deck, 
which  was  yet  swarming  with  men.  Where  was 
Anne?  O  God,  was  she  below  still? — abandoned! 
lost! 

A  little  group  still  stood  on  the  quarter  nearest 
him.  There  was  de  Kersaint,  the  bold  captain;  by 
his  side  a  young  man,  his  head  bound  about  with 
a  blood-spattered  cloth,  his  arm  hanging  useless  by 
his  side.  It  was  de  Vitre.  There  was  the  marquis, 
too,  tall,  spare,  imperturbable  as  ever.  There  was 
old  Jean-Renaud  staggering  aft,  and  in  his  arms — 
God  of  heaven,  a  woman!  The  faithful  old  Breton 
placed  her  on  the  rail  and  held  her  there  erect.  The 
stop  of  Grafton's  heart  told  him  who.  Her  black 
hair  was  blown  away  from  her  face  by  the  force  of 
the  wind.  She  stood,  without  a  cloak,  in  a  white 
dress,  like  a  bride  of  death.  She  recognised  him, 
stretched  out  her  hands  toward  him  in  love  and 
appeal.  It  was  his  wife.  There  was  nothing  he 
could  do.  He  was  helpless.  He  could  only  look 
and  look — he  could  not  pray,  even. 

The  French  ship  was  lower  now.  Her  decks 
were  awash.  Anne  waved  her  hand  to  him  in  fare 
well.  He  cried  out  to  her  over  the  dark  water.  She 
could  not  hear.  His  wife!  His  wife!  O  God,  his 
wife! 

The  old  marquis  laid  his  hand  tenderly  upon  her 
shoulder,  striving  to  calm  her.  De  Vitre  had  fallen 


The  guiberon  Touch 

forward  and  lay  motionless  on  the  rail.  Perhaps, 
happily,  he  was  dead  already.  De  Kersaint  stood 
undaunted,  with  folded  arms,  looking  at  Le  Thesee 
sinking  before  and  with  him.  The  habit  of  years 
had  re-established  itself.  He  was  a  sailor  first  of  all 
now.  He  would  go  down  with  his  ship  with  colours 
flying. 

Old  Jean-Renaud  suddenly  stepped  upon  the 
rail.  He  took  Anne  in  his  arms.  What  was  he 
about  to  do?  The  marquis  nodded  his  head,  kissed 
his  grand-daughter's  hand,  and  that  faithful  Breton 
leaped  with  her  far  out  into  the  black  waters.  He 
would  fight  for  her  life.  Her  husband  watched  him 
strike  boldly  out  with  her,  and  then  a  wave  rolled 
over  them  and  they  were  gone  from  view.  It  had 
all  transpired  in  a  few  moments. 

"  Starboard  the  helm!  "  shouted  Grafton,  awak 
ening  from  his  daze  of  agony.  "  Flow  the  head- 
sheets!  " 

"  My  God,  Captain  Grafton! "  cried  his  first 
lieutenant,  an  old  and  experienced  seaman,  "  what 
mean  you  to  do?  " 

"  Luff  up  toward  yon  ship!  " 

"  But,  sir,  we  can't  do  it.  Our  vessel  is  full  of 
water! " 

"  Sir,  sir,"  cried  the  master,  "  we'll  sink  in  this 
wind!  We  must  go  off  or  lose  the  ship!  " 

"  My  God,  sir,  look  at  the  French  ship!  "  cried 
another  man. 

She  had  been  settling  evenly,  but  at  last  she  went 
down  with  a  mighty  plunge.  For  a  moment  the  sea 
was  black  with  heads — men  struck  out  frantically 

372 


The   Sinister   Effacement  of  a  Ship 

only  to  be  sucked  under  in  the  mighty  vortex  that 
followed  her  disappearance.  The  last  glimpse  Graf- 
ton  caught  of  the  group  on  the  poop-deck,  de  Ker- 
saint  still  stood  with  folded  arms  looking  forward. 
The  marquis  took  off  his  hat  and  looked  up  toward 
the  flag.  "  France!  France!  "  he  murmured.  He 
made  a  fine  end  for  a  soldier.  The  English  saw  it 
fluttering  on  the  surface  of  the  water  for  a  moment  as 
the  mighty  spars  sank  slowly  down,  and  then  the 
waves  washed  over  it.  The  ship  was  gone.  Not  a 
cheer  was  heard  from  the  English  decks;  a  groan  of 
horror  broke  from  her  men,  in  fact,  as  they  wit 
nessed  this  sinister  effacement  of  a  ship. 

Scarcely  a  minute  had  elapsed  since  the  last 
broadside  was  fired,  and  now  it  was  over.  A  few 
bits  of  wreckage,  a  few  desperate  men  clinging  to 
them,  perhaps  a  score  out  of  eight  hundred  gallant 
souls  who  had  manned  and  fought  her  a  moment 
since — that  was  all!  Grafton  gave  one  agonized 
glance  aft.  He  thought  in  the  darkness  he  could 
make  out  the  forms  of  Jean-Renaud  and  his  wife 
in  the  water  drifting  on.  Another  moment  and  they 
were  lost  to  view. 

"  Have  we  a  boat  that  will  swim?  "  he  cried  in 
despair  to  the  master. 

"  Not  one  is  left  at  the  davits,  sir,"  answered  that 
officer  sadly. 

"  Breakers!  Breakers  ahead!  "  roared  one  of  the 
officers  forward. 

They  were  right  on  the  Cardinals. 

"  Up  with  the  helm!  Hard  up!  "  shouted  Graf- 
ton  instinctively.  But  the  sluggish  ship  steered 

373 


The  guiberon  Touch 

slowly.  For  a  few  moments  she  held  her  way  to 
ward  the  rock.  They  thought  she  was  doomed  also. 
For  himself  Graf  ton  did  not  care,  but  for  his  men! 
They  waited  in  awful  apprehension,  but  at  last  she 
slowly  swung  around  and  glided  by,  and  peril  was 
escaped.  Right  next  to  her  was  the  French  ship 
Le  Juste,  spitting  fire  and  shot  from  her  guns  at  the 
Torbay. 

"We  will  attack  that  ship!"  cried  Grafton, 
recklessly  turning  the  prow  of  his  vessel  toward  her. 
"  Fire  upon  her.  Let  her  have  it,  men!  " 

But  there  was  no  response  to  his  command. 
His  guns  were  silent. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  the  magazines  were  flooded 
and  all  our  powder  was  wetted  when  we  came  so 
near  foundering,"  reported  the  gunner  who  had 
just  come  on  deck. 

"  Ah,  I  had  rather  have  gone  down  on  the  Car 
dinals  than  be  thus  helpless!  "  murmured  the  young 
commander,  quite  beside  himself  with  the  disap 
pointments  and  anxieties  of  the  hour. 

"  Sir,  sir,  some  dry  powder  is  found!  "  cried  an 
other,  running  up  on  the  instant. 

"  Engage!  Engage,  then!  "  screamed  Grafton 
fiercely.  His  mind  was  so  overwhelmed  by  the  ca 
tastrophe  that  he  could  find  no  relief  save  in  action, 
and  presently  from  the  iron  muzzles  of  his  hot  guns 
once  more  rang  out  the  deadly  discharge.  A  sav 
age  desire  to  slay,  to  kill,  had  supplanted  every  other 
emotion  in  Graf  ton's  heart.  He  stood,  wild-eyed 
and  despairful,  a  madman  on  his  own  deck,  inciting 
his  men  to  action. 

374 


The   Sinister   Effacement  of  a  Ship 

After  half  a  dozen  broadsides  Le  Juste,  badly 
riven  and  shattered,  sheered  off  and  attempted  to 
withdraw,  having  had  enough  of  it.  Grafton,  how 
ever,  was  not  to  be  shaken  off.  He  pursued  the  re 
treating  French  ship  with  implacable  ferocity,  work 
ing  every  gun  that  would  bear  upon  her. 

As  the  two  ships  swept  along  before  the  wind 
Grafton  suddenly  found  himself  mixed  up  with  six 
other  ships,  one  of  which  happened  to  be  Le  Ton- 
nant,  carrying  de  Beauffremont.  Having  had 
enough  of  the  fight,  the  vice-admiral — not  greatly  to 
his  credit — had  called  these  ships  about  him,  and 
they  were  all  endeavouring  to  escape  to  the  south 
ward  through  the  narrow  pass  between  Le  Four 
bank  and  Pointe  de  Croisic  on  the  shore.  But  the 
young  Englishman's  blood  was  up  now,  and  he  fol 
lowed  hard  on  their  heels,  and  the  singular  spectacle 
of  one  water-logged  and  sodden  ship  pursuing  six 
ships  of  the  enemy  was  presented.  In  their  wild 
haste  to  get  away  the  French  neglected  the  oppor 
tunity  afforded  to  capture  him. 

As  they  swept  around  Le  Four  and  headed  for 
the  south,  Grafton,  who  was  ignorant  of  these  wa 
ters,  as  were  all  the  English  captains,  headed  straight 
for  them,  firing  on  them  with  his  chase  guns  at  the 
same  time,  the  French  making  but  a  feeble  reply. 
He  had  gone  only  a  few  cables'  lengths,  however, 
,  when,  without  any  warning,  in  the  darkness  his  ship 
took  ground.  She  struck  with  tremendous  force 
upon  the  rocky  shoal  of  Le  Four,  and  each  succeed 
ing  wave  lifted  her  higher  and  higher  and  hurled  her 
farther  upon  the  shore.  The  light  spars  snapped 

375 


The  guiberon  Touch 

like  pipe-stems  at  the  first  blow,  and  as  the  ship 
pounded  upon  the  reef,  mast  after  mast  went,  until 
she  lay  grinding  on  the  sands  a  total  wreck,  the 
waves  breaking  over  her  and  sweeping  her  from 
stern  to  stem. 

The  last  shot  from  Le  Juste  struck  the  Torbay 
on  the  quarter  just  as  she  hit  the  reef.  It  sent  a 
shower  of  splinters  inboard,  one  of  which  struck 
Grafton  in  the  breast  and  hurled  him  over  the  rail 
to  windward.  He  caught  feebly  at  a  backstay, 
shouted  a  command,  and  the  next  moment  a  falling 
spar  dashed  him  into  the  sea. 

For  him  and  for  all  the  rest  the  battle  was  over. 


376 


CHAPTER    XXXV 

THE   PROTECTOR    OF   ENGLAND 

VERY  early  in  the  morning  of  the  twenty-first, 
the  day  after  the  battle,  the  Maidstone,  under  the 
smallest  possible  canvas  that  could  be  spread,  which 
would  yet  enable  Hatfield  to  retain  control  of  his 
ship,  came  flying  into  the  bay.  During  the  night 
the  storm  of  the  previous  afternoon  had  developed 
into  one  of  the  fiercest  tempests  that  ever  swept 
over  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  and  the  breaking  day  re 
vealed  a  scene  of  awful  desolation. 

The  storm  still  raged  with  unabated  violence, 
and  the  British  ships  which  had  anchored  near  the 
Royal  George  strained  and  tugged  at  their  cables, 
under  the  tremendous  pressure  of  wind  and  sea,  with 
such  force  that  their  officers  feared  every  moment 
they  would  drag  their  anchors  and  drift  ashore. 
Indeed,  if  the  English  captains,  by  the  admiral's  di 
rection,  had  not  resorted  to  the  tedious  and  labori 
ous  expedient  of  housing  their  topmasts  it  would 
have  been  impossible  for  them  to  have  ridden  out 
the  gale.  No  ship  could  remain  at  her  anchors  in 
such  a  wind  with  her  spars  and  top-hamper  all  stand 
ing. 

Hawke  was  surrounded  by  a  portion  of  his  fleet 

25  377 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

only.  Many  of  his  ships,  not  having  heard  the  sig 
nal  to  anchor — which  was,  at  night,  two  guns  fired 
in  succession — or  mistaking  the  sound,  if  it  was 
heard,  for  a  dying  reminder  of  the  engagement,  had 
beat  out  to  sea.  Most  of  them  did  not  rejoin  him 
for  some  days. 

Several  miles  to  the  northward,  off  the  mouth  of 
the  little  river  Vilaine,  could  be  seen  seven  French 
battleships — Le  Glorieux,  Le  Robuste,  Le  North 
umberland,  Le  Sphynx,  Le  Solitaire,  L'Eveille, 
and  L'Inflexible — and  a  few  frigates,  huddled  to 
gether,  their  crews  working  like  mad,  casting 
guns,  equipment,  and  everything  movable  over 
board  in  order  to  lighten  them  sufficiently  to  enable 
them  to  pass  over  the  bar  into  the  shallow  waters  of 
the  river.  Most  of  them  had  been  severely  mauled 
in  the  battle. 

The  eight  ships  which  had  fled  with  de  Beauffre- 
mont  were  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Far  away  to  the 
southward  they  were  doing  the  same  thing  off  the 
mouth  of  the  Charente.  Le  Juste,  however,  had 
been  so  badly  handled  that  her  officers  lost  control 
of  her,  and  she  had  run  ashore  on  Charpentier  reef 
and  had  become  a  total  wreck,  with  the  loss  of  many 
of  her  men.  The  names  of  these  ships  were  Le  Ton- 
nant,  L'Orient,  L'Intrepide,  Le  Magnifique,  Le 
Dauphin  Royal,  Le  Dragon,  Le  Brilliant,  Le  Bi 
zarre.  Among  these,  Le  Magnifique  was  very 
much  cut  up,  and  only  kept  afloat  with  difficulty. 
All  of  the  others  were  more  or  less  shattered. 

Of  the  other  French  ships,  Le  Formidable  was 
anchored  near  the  Magnanime.  Her  masts  having 

378 


The  Protector  of  England 

been  shot  out  of  her,  she  presented  no  surface  above 
decks  for  the  pressure  of  the  wind,  and  consequently 
rode  the  storm  better  than  any  of  the  ships  about 
her.  She  was  fairly  sound  in  hull,  and  the  English 
hoped  to  make  her  seaworthy  and  save  her.  She 
was  the  sole  prize  remaining  to  them. 

As  the  daylight  came  another  French  ship  was 
revealed  anchored  in  the  very  middle  of  Hawke's 
fleet.  It  was  the  unfortunate  Royal  Sun.  She  had 
remained  there  all  night  long  in  the  storm.  Com 
pletely  dismasted  and  shattered  beyond  hope  -of  re 
pair  by  the  awful  battering  she  had  received  from 
the  Royal  George,  and  surrounded  by  English 
ships,  further  resistance  on  her  part  was  impossible. 
As  soon  as  de  Conflans  discovered  his  situation  the 
unfortunate  French  admiral  cut  his  cable  and  ran 
ashore  near  Croisic. 

Near  the  Torbay,  high  on  Le  Four  bank,  lay 
L'Heros,  which  had  struck  to  the  Magnanime.  She 
had  become  unmanageable  and  drifted  ashore  dur 
ing  the  night.  De  Conflans  landed  his  men  from 
Le  Soleil  Royal  as  best  he  could  in  the  surf,  losing 
many  by  the  operation,  and  then  set  fire  to  his  once 
magnificent  flag-ship.  As  the  French  admiral  cut 
his  cable  Hawke  had  ordered  the  Essex  to  chase 
him.  That  vessel,  however,  was  unfortunate  in  her 
course,  and,  through  no  fault  of  her  captain,  ran 
on  Le  Four  bank  by  the  side  of  Grafton's  ship  and 
became,  like  the  other  two,  a  total  wreck.  Most  of 
the  men  on  L'Heros,  which  was  set  on  fire  on  the 
twenty-second  by  Hawke's  orders,  had  previously 
escaped  to  the  shore. 

379 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

Thus  the  results  of  the  action  were:  one  prize  re 
tained  by  the  English  (Le  Formidable,  eighty),  two 
ships  sunk  during  the  action  (Le  Thesee,  seventy- 
four,  and  Le  Superbe,  seventy),  two  ships  driven 
ashore,  one  of  which  had  struck  during  the  battle 
(Le  Soleil  Royal,  eighty,  and  L'Heros,  seventy- 
four),  and  one  ship  wrecked  to  the  southward  (Le 
Juste,  seventy). 

Of  the  sixteen  ships  left,  those  in  the  mouth  of 
the  Vilaine  eventually  succeeded  in  escaping  into 
the  river  after  the  loss  of  all  their  guns  and  supplies. 
It  was  impossible  for  the  English  ships,  even  the 
frigates,  to  get  near  enough  to  attack  and  destroy 
them,  which  did  not  matter  much,  for  they  were 
practically  helpless,  without  armament  or  equip 
ment.  They  were  not  only  badly  shattered  from  the 
action,  but  most  of  them  broke  their  backs  getting 
over  the  bars,  and  never  got  to  sea  again.  They 
were  subsequently  broken  up  or  dismantled  and 
abandoned. 

All  the  other  ships  which  had  fled  with  de  Beau- 
frremont  were  in  similar  case.  They  were  lightened 
by  throwing  overboard  everything  movable,  and 
then  dragged  far  up  the  Charente,  where  they 
rotted  away  in  the  mud.  Their  value  as  cruising 
ships  came  to  an  end.  Both  squadrons,  however, 
were  blockaded  closely  until  the  end  of  the  war. 

The  French  naval  power,  therefore,  was  practi 
cally  destroyed  on  that  momentous  afternoon.  The 
result  of  the  battle  had  been  absolutely  decisive. 
There  was  no  organic  existence  left  to  the  great 
French  fleet.  The  army  of  d'Aiguillon  was  at  once 

380 


The  Protector  of  England 

withdrawn  from  the  coast,  and  any  project  of  in 
vading  English  territory  was  abandoned. 

All  this  had  been  accomplished  at  the  cost  of 
two  English  ships  wrecked  on  Le  Four  bank.  The 
rest  of  the  English  fleet,  after  a  few  necessary  repairs 
had  been  made,  would  be  in  as  good  condition  as 
when  they  had  started  out  from  Torbay  a  week  be 
fore.  If  they  had  enjoyed  an  hour  or  two  more  of 
daylight  not  a  single  French  ship  would  have  es 
caped. 

Hawke's  long  blockade,  his  unerring  pursuit,  his 
relentless  dash  at  the  retreating  French,  when  only  a 
portion  of  his  command  could  be  brought  into  ac 
tion,  the  grim  tenacity  with  which  he  had  fastened 
his  grip  upon  them  and  held  it,  the  dauntless  cour 
age  with  which  he  had  fought  his  ships  in  spite  of 
the  disadvantages  of  sea,  storm,  night,  and  the  un 
known  and  deadly  shore,  exhibited  him  as  one  of 
the  greatest  sea-captains  that  ever  sailed  a  ship  or 
fought  a  fleet.  When  the  battle  of  that  November 
day  passed  into  history  it  was  as  "  The  Quiberon 
Touch,"  which  capped  his  fortunes. 

The  French  loss  in  men  has  never  been  com 
puted,  but  it  was  probably  not  less  than  four  thou 
sand,  most  of  whom  were  killed  or  drowned.  That 
of  the  English  was  something  less  than  four  hun 
dred,  most  of  whom  were  only  wounded.  A  phrase 
from  the  modest  despatch  in  which  Hawke  an 
nounced  the  news  of  his  victory  to  England  is  well 
worth  quoting: 

"  When  I  consider  the  season  of  the  year,  the 
hard  gales  on  the  day  of  action,  a  flying  enemy,  the 


The   Quiberon  Touch 

shortness  of  the  day,  and  the  coast  they  were  on,  I 
can  boldly  affirm  that  all  that  could  possibly  be  done 
has  been  done.  As  to  the  loss  we  have  sustained, 
let  it  be  placed  to  the  account  of  the  necessity  I  was 
under  of  running  all  risks  to  break  this  strong  force 
of  the  enemy.  Had  we  but  two  hours  more  day 
light,  the  whole  had  been  totally  destroyed  or  taken; 
for  we  were  almost  up  with  their  van  when  night 
overtook  us." 

The  bearer  of  the  despatches  to  the  English  min 
istry  was  stout  old  John  Campbell,  who  was  imme 
diately  sent  on  in  a  fast  frigate  to  apprise  the  Gov 
ernment  of  the  news.  As  he  rode  post-haste  from 
Portsmouth  to  London  to  deliver  his  message,  he 
was  astonished  at  seeing  in  certain  places  through 
which  he  passed  half-burned  effigies  of  his  great 
admiral.  The  enraged  people  of  England,  when 
they  learned  that  de  Conflans  had  escaped  from 
Brest,  had  taken  this  method  of  showing  their  ap 
preciation  of  their  great  commander,  who  at  the 
very  time  he  was  being  burned  in  effigy  was  engaged 
in  fighting  the  great  battle  which  rendered  safe 
from  invasion  the  shores  of  England. 

As  Campbell  rode  to  the  King's  palace  with  An- 
son,  the  first  Lord  of  the  Admiralty,  the  latter  re 
marked  to  him  that  the  King  would  probably  knight 
him. 

"  An'  wherefore  should  I  be  a  knight?  I'll  hae 
none  o'  it,"  remarked  the  Scotsman  decisively,  "  'tis 
no  for  me " 

"  But  think  of  the  advantage,  captain." 
382 


The  Protector  of  England 

"  What  advantage,  my  Lord?  " 

"  Have  you  not  a  wife,  man?  " 

"  Ay,  an'  a  braw  one." 

"  If  you  are  knighted  she  will  be  '  My  Lady 
Campbell/  then." 

"  An'  if  the  woman  would  be  '  My  Lady  Camp 
bell,'  let  the  King  knight  her,  if  he  will,  an'  no  me," 
responded  the  stout  sailor. 

The  old  Scotsman  stood  to  his  guns  to  the  great 
amusement  of  everybody,  including  the  King,  and 
his  "  braw  wife  "  never  became  "  My  Lady  Camp 
bell."  His  Majesty,  however,  presented  him  with 
five  hundred  pounds  to  buy  a  sword,  and  before  he 
died  he  was  promoted  to  be  a  vice-admiral  of  the 
red:  two  things  which  pleased  the  canny  Scot,  and 
doubtless  his  "braw  wife,"  too,  more  than  empty 
honours,  however  glorious. 

Hawke  was  immediately  given  a  pension  of  two 
thousand  pounds  a  year,  was  eventually  raised  to 
the  peerage  under  the  title  of  Baron  Hawke,  of  Tow- 
ton,  and,  after  being  made  Admiral  of  the  Fleet, 
died  in  1781,  Vice- Admiral  of  England.  He  left  to 
his  children  the  heritage  of  a  great  name,  a  pure 
life,  and  the  fame  of  priceless  services  to  his  beloved 
country. 


383 


BOOK   VII 

"OUT  OF  THE  DEEP" 


CHAPTER    XXXVI 

WHAT  WAR  MEANT   IN  THAT   DAY    ON   THE   SEA 

IN  one  of  the  cabins  of  Le  Formidable  lay  Cap 
tain  Philip  Grafton.  He  had  been  badly  wounded 
by  the  splinter  (a  piece  of  timber  six  feet  long)  which 
had  hurled  him  to  the  deck  of  the  Torbay  just 
as  she  went  on  the  rocks.  The  moment  in  which 
he  had  been  thrown  overboard  would  have  been  his 
last  had  it  not  been  for  the  heroic  devotion  of  old 
Slocum. 

Seeing  the  helpless  condition  of  his  commander 
he  had  plunged  into  the  water  after  him,  and  with 
superhuman  strength,  skill,  and  courage  had  sup 
ported  him  until  he  had  been  able  to  lay  hold  of  one 
of  the  floating  spars  of  the  Torbay.  Slocum  had 
lashed  Grafton  to  the  spar  and  had  clung  desperately 
to  it  himself  during  half  the  night.  After  being 
tossed  about  in  a  sickening  way  for  hours,  the  piece 
of  timber,  with  its  two  exhausted  occupants,  had 
been  washed  athwart  Le  Formidable's  cables.  Slo- 
cum's  cries  had  attracted  the  attention  of  Midship 
man  La  Perouse,  afterward  the  celebrated  navigator 

384 


What  War  meant  in  that  Day  on  Sea 

and  discoverer,  on  board  her,  and  the  two  English 
men  had  finally  gained  her  decks. 

The  old  man  was  not  much  the  worse  for  his 
adventure,  but  Grafton  was  in  a  frightful  condition. 
The  blow,  the  shock,  the  strain  of  the  combat,  the- 
mental  agony  he  had  suffered  over  the  loss  of  his 
wife,  had  reduced  him  to  a  pitiable  state.  He  was 
delirious  with  fever.  As  he  lay  in  the  berth  he 
fought  over  the  battle,  heard  once  more  the  roar  of 
the  guns,  witnessed  the  sinking  of  Le  Thesee  again, 
saw  once  more  his  white-clad  wife 

Le  Formidable  was  a  veritable  charnel-house. 
The  surgeon  and  his  mates  were  utterly  over 
whelmed  by  the  unheard-of  demand  upon  their  serv 
ices.  Nearly  every  officer  on  the  ship  had  been 
killed  or  wounded,  and  five  hundred  men  in  addi 
tion,  before  she  had  struck  her  flag.  She  had,  in- 
deed>  been  fought  gallantly — nay,  terribly!  The 
ward-room  and  cabins  were  filled  with  groaning, 
raving  men,  many  of  whom  had  suffered  amputa 
tion  the  day  before,  and  had  the  tourniquets  still 
screwed  on  the  stumps!  In  some  cases  the  blood 
vessels  were  not  taken  up  until  the  third  day  after 
the  battle.  The  gun-room,  the  steerage,  and  every 
available  space  between  the  guns  on  the  lower  deck, 
even  the  cradles  in  the  hold,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
cock-pit,  were  filled  with  men  in  every  stage  of 
wound  and  agony.  The  ship's  medical  staff  were 
entirely  unable  to  cope  with  the  situation.  They 
worked  like  heroes,  nor  eating,  nor  sleeping,  nor 
taking  any  rest,  doing  their  best. 

The  chaplain  had  been  killed,  and  the  suffering 
385 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

and  dying  were  without  the  consolations  and  com 
fort  of  their  religion  even.  With  every  plunge  of 
the  ship,  the  wounded,  unsecured,  unprovided  with 
cots  or  hammocks  (for  there  were  so  many  that  there 
was  no  place  to  lay  them  except  upon  the  bare 
decks),  were  rolled  about  and  thrown  against  each 
other  with  results  too  sickening  to  dwell  upon. 
One  hideous  yell  of  anguish  from  every  part  of  the 
ship  mingled  with  the  scream  of  the  tempest.  The 
men  prayed  to  die,  and  some  of  the  unwounded 
broke  down  and  became  crazed  by  the  awful  sights 
and  sounds. 

The  officer  who  commanded  the  French  marines 
on  her,  stated  to  the  English  prize  lieutenant  that 
every  man  of  his  detachment  had  been  killed  or 
wounded ;  that  he  had  served  in  the  army  for  thirty 
years,  and  had  been  present  on  the  bloody  field  of 
Fontenoy,  but  he  had  never  witnessed  such  a  scene 
of  carnage.  In  fact,  all  that  the  surgeons  could  do 
in  capital  operations  for  hours  during  and  after  the 
battle  had  been  to  "  amputate,  smooth  stumps,  and 
apply  tourniquets." 

Surely  never  on  any  ship  was  exhibited  so  much 
of  the  finished  horror  of  warfare  as  on  this  unlucky 
vessel.  The  sixteen  hundred  men  who  had  gone 
down  on  Le  Thesee  and  Le  Superbe  were  to  be  en 
vied  in  comparison  with  the  fate  of  this  unfortunate 
crew.  It  seems  to  be  a  modern  phrase  to  say  that 
"  war  is  hell,"  but  Le  Formidable  presented  an 
ancient  example  of  its  eternal  truth.  Her  captors 
gazed  upon  the  melancholy  ruin  they  had  wrought, 
and  to  them  came  an  old  saying  with  a  new  force: 

"  Blessed  are  the  peacemakers!  " 
386 


CHAPTER  -XXXVII 

THE    WOMAN    BEREFT 

To  return  to  the  Maidstone.  She  carried  in  her 
cabin  a  passenger — nay,  two.  The  frigates,  while 
not  daring  to  take  part  in  the  action,  had  kept  well 
up  and  as  near  as  they  could  to  the  contending  ships. 
Hatfield  had  naturally  marked  the  Torbay.  He  had 
seen  the  loss  of  Le  Thesee,  and  had  put  his  ship 
over  toward  the  place  where  she  had  gone  down. 
As  he  drew  near  he  had  ordered  out  his  boats,  and 
at  a  fearful  risk — for  it  was  a  most  perilous  under 
taking  to  launch  a  boat  in  such  a  sea — he  succeeded 
in  saving  some  twenty  people  from  her  crew,  among 
them  being  the  Countess  Anne  and  old  Jean-Re- 
naud. 

There  were  neither  accommodation,  clothing, 
nor  any  other  conveniences  for  the  reception  of  a 
half-drowned  woman  on  the  frigate,  yet  Hatfield  had 
done  his  best  for  her.  He  had  given  up  his  own 
cabin  to  her  and  had  made  her  as  comfortable  as 
possible  therein,  while  he  beat  out  to  sea  during  the 
awful  night  to  save  his  ship. 

Buckets  of  sand  in  which  had  been  placed  heat 
ed  shot  had  raised  the  temperature  of  the  cabin,  and 
Anne's  clothing  had  at  last  dried  on  her  person  in 

387 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

the  warm  room.  She  had  been  unable  to  sleep,  and 
had  with  difficulty  partaken  of  food.  Her  condition 
was  indeed  deplorable.  She  had  seen  her  country's 
fleet  defeated;  her  grandfather  had  been  most  cer 
tainly  drowned,  de  Vitre  and  de  Kersaint  likewise. 
The  ship  on  which  she  had  been  had  gone  down, 
although  by  Jean-Renaud's  action  she  had  been 
spared  much  of  the  horror  of  that  awful  scene. 
What  had  become  of  her  husband  she  knew  not, 
consequently  she  was  rilled  with  grief  on  the  one 
hand  and  apprehension  on  the  other. 

Her  state  of  mind,  however,  was  not  quite  so 
bad  as  was  that  of  Grafton,  for  he  thought  that  he 
had  lost  her,  and  she  still  cherished  the  hope  that 
she  would  be  able  to  rejoin  him.  If  she  were  only 
assured  of  his  safety  and  they  could  be  together 
again  in  the  end,  she  felt  she  could  bear  all  the  other 
hardships  and  losses,  terrible  though  they  were. 

She  was  ignorant,  of  course,  of  the  wreck  of  the 
Torbay,  as  was  every  one  else  on  the  frigate,  and 
Hatfield,  who  had  soon  discovered  her  identity,  en 
deavoured  to  reassure  her  as  to  her  husband's  safety. 
But  it  was  with  a  sick  heart,  indeed,  that  she  stood 
on  the  deck  by  his  side,  in  spite  of  the  storm, 
wrapped  in  a  boat-cloak  which  had  belonged  to 
Grafton,  and  which  he  had  left  behind  in  his  hasty 
departure  for  the  Torbay  a  week  ago,  while  the 
Maidstone  was  running  into  the  bay.  With  him 
she  stared  rfard  at  the  broken,  shattered  ships  strain 
ing  at  their  cables  in  the  storm  which  swept  them 
on.  She  marked  the  three  which  had  been  wrecked 
upon  Le  Four,  two  of  them  dismasted  and  ruined 

388 


The  Woman  Bereft 

with  the  ceaseless  waves  still  pounding  them  to 
pieces.  She  saw  farther  away  great  bursts  of  flame 
and  clouds  of  smoke  rising  from  the  two  which 
were  on  fire  and  burning  furiously. 

Hatfield,  whose  treatment  of  her  had  been  per 
fect — she  would  never  forget  it — kept  by  her,  sup 
porting  her  on  the  uneasy  deck  of  the  unsteady  ship, 
intently  surveying  the  scene,  too.  He  did  not  see 
the  Torbay  among  those  at  anchor.  As  he  drew 
nearer  to  the  group,  however,  he  happened  to  cast 
a  glance  to  leeward,  and  instantly  recognised  the 
wrecked  ship  on  Le  Four.  The  involuntary  start 
he  gave,  as  the  recognition  came  to  him,  attracted 
the  attention  of  Anne,  who  turned  to  him  as  he 
stared  at  the  remains  of  the  Torbay.  Intuitively 
she  divined  that  something  had  occurred,  and  she 
gave  him  no  rest  until  he  told  her  the  truth. 

It  had  seemed  to  her  that  fate  could  have  laid 
upon  her  no  heavier  burdens  than  those  she  had 
already  borne,  until  this  last  blow  came.  She  would 
have  fallen  to  the  deck  had  not  Hatfield  supported 
her.  He  endeavoured,  of  course,  to  comfort  her, 
but  without  success.  Though  the  Torbay  was 
wrecked,  they  could  see  that  many  of  her  men  re 
mained  on  her,  and  she  still  held  together.  It  was 
quite  likely  that  Grafton  was  safe,  he  urged;  in 
which  event  she  would  soon  see  him. 

Nerved  by  this  thought,  she  summoned  her  res 
olution  once  more,  and  leaning  over  the  rail  gazed  at 
the  wreck  of  her  husband's  ship,  and  possibly  of  her 
own  hope  and  happiness,  as  they  swept  on.  She 
would  know  all  in  a  short  time,  she  thought;  mean- 

389 


The  Quiberon  Touch 

while  she  must  have  the  strength  to  wait  a  little 
longer.  That  wait  was  to  be  longer  than  she 
dreamed,  and  of  all  the  demands  upon  her  strength 
made  during  the  past  week  it  proved  the  greatest 
and  the  hardest  to  be  met. 

Hatfield  intended  to  send  a  boat  off  to  the  flag 
ship  at  once,  but  when  he  reached  a  suitable  position 
for  anchoring,  the  seas  were  running  so  heavily  and 
the  storm  blowing  so  hard  it  was  impossible  for  him 
to  do  anything  all  that  day.  Indeed,  he  had  to  bring 
all  his  seamanship  and  experience  to  bear  to  save 
his  ship.  Anne,  in  a  fever  of  impatient  anxiety,  had 
to  wait  as  best  she  could.  Philip  might  be  there  on 
that  ship,  wounded,  dying,  she  could  not  get  to  him; 
he  might  be  dead,  and  she,  not  knowing  it,  yet  alive. 
Oh,  the  raging  sea,  the  cruel  storm! 

She  forgot  the  anger  of  men  which  had  wrought 
such  havoc,  and  railed  in  her  heart  against  wind  and 
wave  and  tempest.  She  was  almost  beside  herself. 
Hatfield,  whose  anxiety  for  his  friend  was  also  very 
strong,  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  calming  her. 
Indeed,  he  had  but  little  time  from  his  duties.  He 
had  to  watch  his  ship  constantly.  Great  are  the 
demands  of  duty,  but  great  are  its  compensations  as 
well.  If  Anne  only  could  have  had  something  to  do 
she  could  have  borne  the  killing  suspense  better; 
alas!  she  had  only  to  wait.  The  strength  of  woman 
is  to  wait.  Weakness  is  passive,  yet  it  conquers,  or 
dies,  in  the  end. 

For  the  same  reason  of  the  storm  no  help  could 
be  offered  the  men  on  the  wrecked  ships.  Some  of 
them  made  rafts  and  escaped  to  the  shore,  where 

390 


The  Woman  Bereft 

they  were  promptly  captured,  but  most  of  them 
clung  to  their  vessels  until  the  weather  moderated, 
when  they  were  rescued. 

It  was  not  until  the  gale  blew  itself  out  that  Hat- 
field  was  able  to  communicate  with  Admiral  Hawke. 
On  the  third  day  after  the  battle,  therefore,  the 
weather  at  last  made  it  possible  for  him  to  call  away 
one  of  his  boats  and  repair  to  the  flag-ship.  Anne 
went  with  him,  for  she  had  insisted  upon  going  in 
the  first  boat  that  left  the  frigate.  The  faithful 
Jean-Renaud — whose  grief  for  the  master  he  had 
abandoned  (though  by  that  master's  orders)  was 
not  less  profound  than  her  own  for  the  husband  she 
feared  she  had  lost — accompanied  her.  Indeed,  the 
old  man  would  not  be  parted  from  her. 

Sir  Edward  Hawke,  hearing  that  there  was  a 
woman  in  the  approaching  boat,  came  to  the  gang 
way  to  meet  them.  The  old  sailor  took  off  his  hat 
before  her  and  stood  with  bent  head,  the  wind  blow 
ing  across  his  gray  hairs  as  Anne,  pale  and  haggard, 
but  still  lovely,  followed,  and,  assisted  by  Hatfield, 
clambered  up  the  ladder  and  stepped  upon  the  deck. 

"  Sir  Edward  Hawke,"  said  Hatfield,  as  he  sa 
luted,  "  allow  me  to  congratulate  you  on  your  vic 
tory,  and  then  to  present  you  to  the  Countess 
de " 

"  Pardon,  monsieur,"  said  Anne — "  Madame 
Philip  Grafton." 

"  Is  it  possible!  "  cried  the  admiral.  "  My  dear 
lady " 

"  Where  is  my  husband,  sir?  "  interrupted  Anne. 

"Ah,  madame,  I  know  not!    Yonder  upon  Le 

391 


The  guiberon  Touch 

Four  lie  the  remains  of  his  ship.  We  have  had  no 
speech  with  them  for  two  days.  The  boats  of  the 
Union,  however,  are  now  taking  off  the  men.  We 
will  have  a  report  presently.  But  you,  madame, 
where  were  you,  may  I  ask?  " 

"  I  was  on  Le  Thesee,  sir,  with  my  grandfather, 
the  Marquis  de  Chabot-Rohan." 

"  My  poor  child!  "  exclaimed  the  admiral. 

"  They  are  all  gone,  sir,  are  they  not?  Were  any 
of  them  saved?  "  she  asked  him  piteously. 

"  None!    None!    How  terrible  for  you!  " 

''  Yes,  monsieur,  and  if  I  have  not  my  husband, 
I  am  indeed  lost." 

"  Pray  God  he  may  be  saved,  madame.  And 
how  did  you  escape?  " 

"  This  old  man,"  she  said,  turning  to  Jean-Re- 
naud,  "  seized  me  in  his  arms,  leaped  with  me  into 
the  sea,  and  Monsieur  Hatfield,  my  husband's  friend, 
picked  us  up." 

"  You  have  done  well,  my  brave  man,"  said  the 
admiral  in  French,  turning  to  Jean-Renaud,  and 
reaching  out  his  hand. 

"  No,  Monsieur  1'Amiral,"  said  the  old  Breton, 
shaking  his  head,  tears  falling  from  his  eyes,  "  my 
master  is  gone  and  I  am  here.  He  bade  me  take 
mademoiselle.  He  went  down  with  the  ship,  and  I 
was  not  there." 

"  But  you  saved  the  mistress,"  continued  the  ad 
miral.  "  'Twas  an  heroic  deed." 

'  You  will  not  hold  him  prisoner,  sir?  "  asked 
Anne  anxiously. 

"  Madame,"  said  Hawke,  "  he  is  as  free  as  the 

392 


The  Woman  Bereft 

air.  He  shall  be  set  ashore  where  and  when  he 
wills." 

"  No,  Mademoiselle  Anne,"  returned  the  old 
man  mournfully,  "  they  are  all  gone  of  the  old  house 
I  serve,  but  you.  I  must  stay  with  you  while  I  am 
here.  Where  you  go,  I  go.  I  could  not  live  and  not 
serve  the  de  Rohans.  I  am  your  man  now  until  the 
end." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  Anne,  extending  her  hand  to 
him.  "  I  stay  here  until — until " 

"  Will  you  not  come  into  my  cabin?  "  asked  the 
admiral  kindly,  "  and  wait  there?  I  shall  have  news 
presently,  and  it  will  be  brought  to  you  at  once." 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  Anne  resolutely,  "  I  would 
rather  stay  here.  I  can  at  least  look  at  his  ship." 

"  A  boat  from  the  Union,  sir,  coming  on 
board,"  reported  the  officer  of  the  watch.  "  There 
are  some  of  the  officers  of  the  Torbay  in  her.  I 
recognise  them,  sir." 

"  Is  one  of  them — my  husband?  "  cried  Anne. 

"  Your  husband,  madame?  " 

"  Captain  Grafton,"  explained  Hawke. 

"  No,  madame,"  answered  the  young  officer, 
looking  at  her  sadly. 

In  another  moment  the  first  lieutenant  of  the 
Torbay  stepped  up  to  the  admiral  and  saluted.  He 
was  haggard  and  broken  from  loss  of  sleep,  expo 
sure,  responsibility,  and  anxiety. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  I  have  to  report  the  loss  of  the 
ship  to  the  command  of  which  I  succeeded  on  the 
night  of  the  battle.  Captain  Grafton " 

Hawke  raised  his  finger  warningly,  but  before 

26  393 


The  guiberon  Touch 

the  lieutenant  realized  the  situation  Anne  grasped 
him  by  the  arm. 

"  What  of  him?  "  she  cried. 

The  officer  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in  great 
bewilderment. 

"  Speak  out  now,  man,"  said  Hawke  impatient 
ly.  "  The  tale  must  be  told  now." 

"  He  was  washed  overboard  when  we  struck  Le 
Four  and  we  have  not  seen  him  since,  sir." 

Without  a  moan  or  cry  Anne  sank  to  the  deck 
at  the  feet  of  the  old  admiral.  Stooping  over  her 
slight  form  he  lifted  her  up  himself  as  easily  as  if 
she  had  been  his  own  child — his  daughter.  He  car 
ried  her  to  his  cabin,  where  he  sent  the  surgeon  and 
the  old  chaplain  to  her.  They  were  not  able  to  do 
much  with  her.  When  consciousness  came  back 
it  brought  such  agony  to  her  that  she  longed  and 
hoped  for  death.  The  admiral  visited  her  again  and 
again,  told  her  he  had  directed  inquiries  to  be  made 
as  to  whether  any  of  the  other  ships  had  picked  her 
husband  up,  bade  her  not  despair — in  short,  the 
grim  old  warrior  was  as  tender  of  her  as  a  father,  as 
gentle  to  her  as  a  woman. 

As  the  morning  wore  on  communication  was 
had  with  Le  Formidable,  and  from  her  news  of 
Grafton's  safety  secured.  Hawke  himself  carried 
the  news  to  the  devoted  woman,  who  revived  so 
much  on  receipt  of  the  tidings  that  she  insisted  upon 
going  aboard  the  captured  ship  at  once.  By  the  ad 
miral's  direction  his  own  barge,  which  had  been  un 
injured  in  the  battle,  was  called  away  and  placed  at 
her  disposal.  Hatfield  accompanied  her. 

394 


The  Woman  Bereft 

"Tell  him  from  me,"  said  Hawke,  as  he  bade 
her  good-bye  at  the  gangway,  "  that  he  did  mag 
nificently.  I  marked  his  course,  I  saw  his  fighting. 
England  shall  hear  of  it.  Tell  him,  too,  not  to  worry 
over  the  loss  of  his  ship.  It  was  a  thing  that  might 
have  happened  to  any  one.  I  am  thankful  we  got 
off  so  easily."  He  stopped  and  looked  gravely  yet 
kindly  at  her,  laying  his  hand  on  her  head — she 
seemed  to  remind  him  of  his  own  daughter.  "  Tell 
him,  also,  that  the  best  share  of  the  victory  and 
the  greatest  prize  has  fallen  to  him  since  he  has  you. 
They  tell  me  he  is  desperately  wounded  and  uncon 
scious,  but  you  will  revive  him  and  bring  him  to 
life  if  anything  can.  Don't  give  way.  He  needs  you 
now.  I  don't  wonder  he  fought  as  he  did!  'Twas 
not  for  England  only,  but  for  his  wife  as  well — and 
such  a  wife!  You  must  bring  him  back  to  the 
Royal  George  when  you  can,  and  come  back  your 
self  if  you  stay  with  him " 

"  I  shall  never  leave  him  again,  monsieur,"  she 
murmured.  "  Whom  have  I  now  but  him?  I  thank 
you;  you  have  been  good  to  me.  I  shall  not  for 
get  it." 

She  seized  his  hand,  and  before  he  could  with 
draw  it,  much  to  his  embarrassment  she  carried  it 
to  her  lips  and  was  gone. 


395 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII 

FROM    DEATH    UNTO    LIFE 

SINCE  early  morning  the  surgeons  from  the 
English  ships  had  been  working  with  the  wounded 
on  Le  Formidable,  and  details  of  seamen  had  been 
working  over  the  ship  herself  as  well,  so  that,  while 
she  was  still  a  picture  of  ruin  and  devastation,  she 
was  in  a  very  much  better  condition  than  she  had 
been.  Most  of  the  severely  wounded  had  died  in 
the  interim,  and  their  bodies  had  been  cast  over 
board  with  as  much  reverence  as  the  demands  of  the 
living  and  their  pressing  necessities  admitted,  which 
was  not  much.  Those  who  yet  remained  alive  were 
fast  becoming  amenable  to  the  treatment,  but  the 
ship  itself  was  a  sufficiently  ghastly  place,  in  spite  of 
all  that  had  been  done  for  her  and  for  her  crew,  to 
have  appalled  the  stoutest  heart. 

Philip's  wife,  however,  saw  nothing  of  this. 
There  was  nothing  before  her  heart  but  her  hus 
band  and  his  welfare.  She  knew  nothing,  saw  noth 
ing,  thought  of  nothing  but  him.  She  had  long  since 
passed  beyond  the  normal  capacity  of  humanity  to 
experience  suffering — save  in  so  far  as  he  was  con 
cerned.  Nothing  else  made  any  appeal  to  her  dead 
ened  sensibilities.  She  had  still  strength  to  get  to 
his  side;  after  that 

396 


From  Death  unto  Life 

She  sat  in  the  boat,  as  it  made  its  way  to 
ward  Le  Formidable,  with  her  eyes  closed,  her  lips 
murmuring  prayers.  And  though  her  eyes  were 
opened  on  the  ship,  it  made  little  difference  to  her. 
She  stood  on  the  wreck  as  one  blind.  Hatfield 
helped  her  tenderly  over  the  side,  and  with  a  word 
of  explanation  to  the  prize-master  took  her  imme 
diately  below  to  the  great  cabin. 

They  had  given  Grafton  the  room  that  had  be 
longed  to  the  brave  Admiral  du  Verger,  now  peace 
fully  sleeping  beneath  the  waves  on  the  scene  of  his 
heroic  defence. 

As  they  approached  the  door  Anne  could  hear 
her  husband's  voice.  He  was  alive,  then,  thank 
God!  Hatfield  pushed  open  the  door  and  she  en 
tered.  At  the  head  of  the  berth  on  a  low  stool  sat  a 
grim  old  sailor,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands.  He 
lifted  his  head  as  they  entered,  rose  to  his  feet,  and 
stared  at  her. 

"  Who  be  you,  ma'am?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  am  his  wife,"  she  answered,  pushing  past  him 
toward  the  berth. 

There  was  her  husband.  He  was  white,  hag 
gard,  and  broken.  He  looked  utterly  exhausted — 
dying.  The  fever  which  had  possessed  him  had  re 
duced  him  to  the  last  extremity.  His  eyes  were 
closed;  he  was  muttering  to  himself.  She  bent  her 
head  to  listen.  How  the  scene  in  the  old  house  in 
Quebec  came  back  to  her  as  she  saw  him  lying  help 
less  before  her  thus  again! 

"My  ship!"  he  murmured.  "My  ship!  She 
strikes!  Ha!  She's  going  down!  LeThesee!  My 

397 


The   guiberon  Touch 

God,  my  wife — my  wife — have  mercy  on  me!  My 
ship — my  wife — pity,  pity,  O  God,  my  wife — my 
wife " 

"  He's  been  sayin'  them  words  for  three  days. 
'Tis  his  wife  an'  the  ship  all  the  time,"  whispered 
the  old  sailor  to  Hatfield. 

Anne  stared  at  Grafton  in  strained  silence.  He 
did  not  know  her.  Would  he  ever  do  so?  She 
thought,  if  he  did  not  recover  consciousness,  if  he 
did  not  cease  that  unwearying  murmur  of  ship  and 
wife,  she  would  die  there  before  him.  She  was  pet 
rified,  appalled,  shocked  by  the  cumulative  events 
of  the  week — tried  beyond  endurance.  She  stared 
longer,  growing  whiter  as  she  did.  Was  she  dying, 
too?  Well,  what  mattered  it?  They  would  go  to 
gether.  Hatfield  saw  her  sway,  and  not  with  the 
motion  of  the  ship.  He  sprang  to  her  side  and 
caught  her  by  the  shoulder.  Old  Slocum  took  her 
by  the  hands. 

"  Ma'am,"  he  said  in  his  rude  way,  tears  filling 
his  eyes,  "  I  knowed  him  w'en  he  was  a  babby.  I 
sailed  with  his  father.  Pull  yourself  together  an' 
speak  to  him.  If  you  don't  call  him  back  agin  he's 
gone.  The  doctor  says  he  can't  do  nuthin'  more 
fer  him.  Speak  to  him,  fer  God's  sake,  ma'am !  " 

Anne  roused  herself  with  a  last  desperate  effort — 
summoned  the  vestiges  of  her  resolution  once  more, 
and,  as  she  thought,  for  the  last  time — stepped 
nearer  to  Grafton,  laid  her  hand  upon  his  brow,  and 
bent  her  lips  low  toward  him. 

"Philip!"  she  whispered.  "Philip,  O  Philip! 
My  husband! " 

398 


From  Death  unto  Life 

He  heard  the  unfamiliar  sound.  His  babbling 
ceased.  He  opened  his  eyes  and  lay  strangely  still, 
looking  at  her. 

"  Little  France,"  he  whispered,  "  is  it  thou?  " 

"  I,  indeed,  Philip!  "  cried  the  girl. 

"  My  wife!  "  he  murmured. 

"Yes,  yes,  now  and  forever!  O  Philip,  Philip, 
I  called  to  God  out  of  the  deep  and  He  heard  me! 
We  will  never  be  parted." 

''  You  have  called  me  back  to  life,"  he  mur 
mured. 

She  laid  her  head  upon  his  breast,  as  she  had 
done  many  times  before  in  Canada.  He  closed  his 
eyes.  Had  he  fainted?  But,  no,  she  felt  the  pres 
sure  of  his  hand.  He  would  recover  now.  It  need 
ed  no  other  skill  than  that  supplied  by  her  loving 
heart  to  assure  her  of  that.  He  had  grown  strangely 
calm  in  her  presence.  Her  own  strength  came  back 
to  her  before  his  weakness.  She  seemed  to  lift  him 
up  to  life  and  love  again.  The  silence  in  the  cabin 
was  broken  only  by  the  sound  of  the  waves  rushing 
along  the  side,  the  creaking  and  groaning  of  the 
timbers  from  the  uneasy  pitching  of  the  ship. 

Hatfield  beckoned  old  Slocum,  and  the  two  men 
slipped  noiselessly  out. 

"  I  guess  he  don't  want  me  no  more,  sir,"  said 
the  old  sailor  sadly,  as  he  stepped  out  of  the  cabin, 
"  an'  I  took  keer  on  him  w'en  he  was  a  babby." 

"  And  I  lost  my  ship,  darling,"  whispered  Philip 
at  last,  all  the  sorrow  of  a  sailor  and  a  captain  in  his 
voice. 

399 


The  guiberon  Touch 

"  Yes,  but  the  admiral  said  you  had  done  nobly 
and  you  were  not  to  mind.  He  would  see." 

"  Ah,  he  is  a  kindly  man!  " 

"  He  was  kind  to  me,  too.    And  I  am  grateful." 

"  And  I,  too." 

"  Philip,  do  you  know  that  I  am  alone  now  but 
for  you?  "  continued  the  girl  sadly.  "  Grandfather, 
friends,  country,  all  seem  to  have  gone  down  in  that 
terrible  ship." 

"  'Twas  not  my  ship  that  sunk  her,  dear,"  pro 
tested  her  husband.  "  God's  hand  dealt  the  blow. 
He  saved  you.  He  brought  us  together  again.  I 
shall  be  all  things  to  you  by  His  help.  I  promise 
Him,  I  promise  you." 

"  And  I  believe  you  and  I  trust  you.  I  always 
believed  you — and  trusted  you,  even  as  a  child,  my 
Philip." 

"  And  you  will  do  so  still?  " 

"  To  the  very  end." 

"  That  picture,  Anne,  darling,"  whispered  Graf- 
ton  at  last,  "  that  you  gave  me,  'twas  broken  by  the 
blow  that  struck  me  down." 

"Let  it  be!"  cried  the  girl.  "You  have  me 
now,  is  not  that  enough?  " 

"  And  that  slipper,"  he  murmured,  "  that  I  took 
from  your  room  in  the  tower " 

"  Did  you  take  it? "  she  cried,  faintly  smil 
ing  through  her  tears.  "  I  missed  it  and  won 
dered." 

"  Tis  gone,  too,"  he  said,  "  lost  with  the  Tor- 
bay." 

"  Philip,"  she  said  suddenly,  "  that  other  locket? 
400 


From  Death  unto  Life 

Ah,  you  wear  it  still!  "  she  added,  lifting  the  chain 
with  her  hand. 

In  spite  of  herself  her  eyes  looked  the  desire  she 
did  not  express. 

"  There  can  be  no  secret  between  us  now,  sweet 
Anne,"  said  Grafton.  "  Open  it." 

She  drew  back.  His  willingness  was  all  she 
wished. 

"  Nay,  I  trust  you  in  all.  I  have  you.  You  are 
mine.  No  pictured  woman  may  rise  to  claim  you 
now." 

"  None  ever  will,  dear,"  he  answered.  "  But 
open  it.  I  desire  it.  The  dead  general  would  wish 
it,  too,  could  he  but  know  you." 

With  eager  hands  she  drew  the  little  golden 
locket  from  its  weather-stained  leather  case.  She 
pressed  the  spring  and  opened  it.  The  miniature 
of  a  beautiful  young  woman  looked  up  at  her. 
As  she  gazed  at  it  a  moment  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  She  could  not  help  but  be  very  jeal 
ous. 

"  She  is  very  beautiful,"  she  murmured  pitifully, 
looking  from  the  portrait  at  her  husband. 

"  Is  she?  "  he  said  faintly.    "  I  never  saw  her." 

"  Never  saw  her!  " 

"  No,  she  was  the  betrothed  of  General  Wolfe. 
He  gave  me  the  locket  the  night  before  the  battle 
of  Quebec,  and  bade  me  place  it  in  her  hands 
when  I  returned  to  England,  with  all  the  love 
of  his  heart,  and  he  told  me  to  tell  no  one; 
but  now  you — well,  we  will  take  it  to  her  to 
gether." 

401 


The  guiberon  Touch 

"  Yes,  yes — poor  maiden!  Ah,  Philip,  Sir 
Philip,  how  well  you  English  know  how  to  love  a 
woman! " 

"  A  man  would  be  a  poor  fellow  indeed,  Anne," 
he  answered,  "  whom  you  could  not  teach  to  do 
that." 


402 


L'ENVOI 
FAREWELL! 

NEARLY  two  years  have  fled  away.  It  is  a  new 
scene  in  a  new  land.  Under  a  grove  of  mighty  trees, 
the  forest  primeval,  indeed,  on  the  brow  of  a  hill,  a 
gray  old  manor-house  stands  upon  a  grassy  lawn 
stretching  down  to  the  shining  waters  of  the  broad 
Potomac.  On  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  looking  far 
over  the  river,  is  a  little  pleasure-house.  It  is  late 
spring  in  the  Old  Dominion. 

Philip  and  Anne  Grafton  for  some  time  past 
have  been  established  in  the  ancestral  home  of  the 
family  from  which  her  mother  sprang,  which  had 
descended  to  her  shortly  before.  Though  he  had 
given  up  active  service  in  the  English  navy,  out  of 
deference  to  his  wife's  feelings,  who  would  not  see 
him  war  against  her  countrymen,  and  who  could 
not  bear  to  think  of  him  on  that  sea  which  had 
taken  her  grandfather  and  father  as  well,  Graf- 
ton  had  retired  with  the  sanction  and  approval  of 
the  King.  His  beautiful  wife  and  her  story  had  won 
the  kind  heart  of  queer  little  George  II,  and,  while 
loath  to  lose  so  good  an  officer,  he  had  at  last  said 
"  Yes  "  to  all  her  pleadings  for  her  husband.  She 
had  suffered  enough  and  she  was  entitled  to  consid 
eration. 

403 


The  guiberon  Touch 

From  a  tall  masthead,  erected  on  the  sloping 
lawn,  every  day  flutters  a  small  blue  flag,  which  is 
especially  under  the  care  of  a  certain  ancient 
mariner  of  aspect  curious  and  language  quaint, 
who  rolls  along  the  walks  and  drives  of  the  Vir 
ginia  plantation  as  if  he  were  still  on  the  heaving 
deck  of  a  ship.  He  answers  to  the  name  of  Jabez 
Slocum,  and  is  full  of  strange  tales  of  distant  lands 
and  teeming  seas.  The  children  of  the  vicinity 
love  him. 

Philip's  neighbours,  in  common  with  this  old 
man,  call  him  "  Admiral  Grafton."  He  is,  in  fact,  a 
rear-admiral  of  the  blue,  and  the  flag  is  that  of  his 
rank. 

In  the  little  summer-house  there  are  two  women. 
The  difference  between  them  is  as  marked,  thinks 
Philip,  as  he  observes  them,  himself  unseen,  from 
the  porch  of  the  house  above,  as  when  he  first  saw 
them  in  the  old  Chateau  de  Josselin  in  Brittany  in 
France.  There  is  but  one  doll  between  them  now. 
It  is  not  Toto,  nor  any  of  the  demoiselles  de  Paris. 
This  one  has  blue  eyes  like  his  father  and  mother, 
and  the  midnight  hair  of  Anne  has  been  lightened 
into  a  curly  brown  that  speaks  of  Philip.  Josette, 
who  had  been  brought  from  France  after  the  battle, 
kneels  at  her  mistress'  feet  in  adoration.  From 
where  Grafton  stands  he  can  see  the  downy  head  of 
his  young  son  nestling  against  the  fair  white  bosom 
of  his  mother.  Young  Philip  de  Rohan  Grafton  is 
hungry — but  he  will  not  be  so  long! 

The  two  women  break  into  the  words  of  a  famil 
iar  song.  The  man  watches  and  listens.  There  is  a 

404 


Farewell ! 

step  behind  him.  He  turns  and  finds  himself  face 
to  face  with  old  Jean-Renaud. 

"  They  sing  yonder.  Do  you  hear?  "  asked 
Graf  ton. 

"  Yes,  monsieur,"  answered  the  old  man  smil 
ing. 

"  Do  you  know  what  it  is  they  sing?  " 

Philip  knows  it  well,  he  has  heard  it  often;  but 
still  he  asks  the  question,  thinking  the  while  of  the 
morning  he  first  heard  it  from  the  children  at  the 
foot  of  the  tower  when  he  asked  Jean-Renaud  about 
it  long  ago. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur  1'Amiral.  Tis  a  Breton  cra 
dle-song  with  which  the  mothers  put  their  babies  to 
sleep." 

The  two  men  look  and  listen.  The  two  women 
sing  on.  The  baby  sleeps. 

There  is  peace  in  the  land. 


405 


AFTERWORD 


PREFACES  and  "  forewords  "  are  as  "  plenty  as 
blackberries."  Few  people,  however,  seem  to  read 
them.  Perhaps  an  "  afterword  "  may  meet  with  a 
better  fate — and  the  fashion  has  already  been  set. 
Those  who,  like  the  Chinese,  begin  a  book  on  the 
last  page  may  be  inveigled  into  reading  this. 

It  is  a  bad  plan  to  commence  a  sermon — with 
the  making  of  which  I  am  measurably  familiar — 
with  an  apology,  and  the  rule  holds  good  of  a  book. 
We  have  arrived  at  the  conclusion  of  this  tale,  and, 
like  most  prefaces,  this  is  written  after  the  book 
was  completed ;  but  I  will  extend  the  rule  and  refrain 
from  apologizing  even  at  the  end — then  it  is  too 
late,  anyway. 

This  is  merely  a  statement,  therefore,  that 
instead  of  Philip  Grafton,  it  was  the  celebrated  Jer- 
vis,  afterward  Earl  St.  Vincent,  who  received  the 
locket  and  Wolfe's  confidences  in  the  cabin  of  the 
Sutherland;  that  it  was  Keppel,  subsequently  the 
great  antagonist  of  d'Orvilliers,  who  commanded 

407 


The  guiberon  Touch 

the  Torbay  at  Quiberon,  and  it  was  the  Resolution 
and  not  the  Torbay  that  was  wrecked  in  that  titanic 
struggle.  Nor  did  the  war  begin  in  1754.  There 
was  an  ostensible  peace  between  France  and  Eng^ 
land  then,  in  spite  of  the  sharp  fighting  during 
Washington's  and  Braddock's  campaigns  in  the  val 
ley  of  the  Ohio  in  that  and  the  following  year,*  and 
the  war  was  not  formally  declared  until  1756. 

The  two  great  historical  events  around  which 
the  action  of  the  story  centres  were  of  vital  impor 
tance  to  the  future  of  America  and  England.  Fail 
ing  the  victory  at  Quebec,  which  virtually  termi 
nated  the  war  on  this  continent,  in  which  the  Amer 
icans  received  such  valuable  lessons,  the  United 
States  would  probably  never  have  won  its  independ 
ence.  There  would  have  been  another  outlet  for 
the  growing  energies  of  the  colonies  in  that  event — 
namely,  fighting  with  Canada  instead  of  with  Eng 
land.  Without  the  victory  at  Quiberon,  in  which 
the  naval  power  of  France  was  annihilated,  England 
might  not  have  been  able  to  hold  New  France,  and 
the  British  Empire  certainly  would  not  at  that  time 
have  begun  to  be.  The  story  of  Wolfe  on  the 
Plains  of  Abraham  is  a  familiar  one.  The  magnifi 
cent  fighting  of  Hawke  in  the  storm  off  Quiberon  is 

*  See  my  book,  Colonial  Fights  and  Fighters,  for  a  detailed 
account  of  these  celebrated  campaigns. 

408 


Afterword 

practically  unknown.  Yet  he  was  one  of  the  most 
splendid  seamen — as  well  as  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
and  dashing  fighters — in  the  long,  glorious  line  of 
English  admirals.  Well  does  Burke  style  him  "  The 
Great  Lord  Hawke."  His  crushing  of  the  French 
fleet  sealed  the  conquest  of  Canada,  and,  as  I  said 
before,  determined  the  beginning  of  one  of  the 
greatest  achievements  in  state  building  the  world 
has  ever  seen — the  British  Empire.  The  year  1759, 
marked  by  the  battles  of  Quebec  and  Quiberon, 
fitly  may  be  called  the  annits  mirabilis  of  William 
Pitt  and  of  England. 

The  battle  of  Quiberon  is  told  as  it  happened. 
Although  there  are  many  allusions  to  it,  and  a  num 
ber  of  anecdotes  concerning  it  to  be  found,  there  is 
in  existence  no  coherent,  clear,  detailed  account  of 
that  tremendous  action — unless  in  Mahan — no  map 
or  plan  of  it;  nor  have  I  ever  seen  any  picture 
or  sketch  of  it.  I  have  ransacked  the  various  his 
tories,  and  examined  all  the  accounts  to  which 
I  could  get  access,  including  some  unpublished 
manuscript  recently  brought  to  light  for  the  first 
time,  and  have  so  built  up  the  story.  The  archives 
of  France  and  England  have  been  searched  for  con 
firming  details,  and  I  believe,  with  the  exceptions 
noted  above,  that  the  description  is  accurate,  and 
the  things  set  down  really  happened.  Notably  is 
27  409 


The   guiberon  Touch 

this  true  of  the  smashing  of  Le  Superbe  and  the 
foundering  of  Le  Thesee.  The  account  of  the 
scene  on  Le  Formidable,  after  the  battle,  is  taken 
from  the  rare  journal  of  an  English  naval  surgeon 
who  was  there.  I  have  not  ventured  to  quote  the 
full  details  of  his  horrible  recital  of  what  he  saw  on 
that  ship.  Many  of  the  conversations  in  which 
Hawke  takes  part  are  on  record  as  well. 

To  turn  to  lighter  themes:  the  cradle-song,  for 
the  English  version  of  which  I  am  indebted  to  a 
gifted  young  friend,  is  still  sung  by  the  mothers  to 
their  children  in  ancient  Brittany.  And  with  this 
note  concerning  the  peaceful  little  lullaby  I  leave 
my  readers — with  a  regret  on  my  part  in  which  I 
fondly  hope  they  share. 

CYRUS  TOWNSEND  BRADY. 
OVERBROOK,  PHILADELPHIA,  PA.,  April 5,  igoi. 


410 


BY  CYRUS  TOWNSEND  BRADY. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones. 
A  new  volume  in  the  GREAT  COMMANDERS 
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With   Photogravure   Portrait   and   Maps.      I2mo. 
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A  NEW  HISTORICAL  ROMANCE. 
Betsy  Ross. 

A  Romance  of  the  Flag.      By  CHAUNCEY  C.  HOTCHKISS,  author 
of  "In  Defiance  of  the  King,"  etc.      I  zmo.      Cloth,  $1.50. 

"Betsy  Ross"  is  a  historical  romance  based  upon  the  story 
of  the  maker  of  the  first  official  American  flag.  Mrs.  Ross  was 
a  charming  young  widow  of  but  little  more  than  twenty-three 
when  she  was  commissioned  to  make  the  flag  from  a  design  sub 
mitted  to  her  by  Washington.  Her  husband  had  been  killed  by 
an  accident  at  the  Philadelphia  arsenal  within  a  few  months  after 
his  marriage. 

The  romance  which  the  author  has  woven  around  the  origin 
of  our  flag  will  quicken  the  pulse  of  every  reader  by  the  wealth  of 
striking  characters  and  dramatic  incidents,  and  the  absorbing  interest 
of  the  plot.  History  has  furnished  a  motive  which  has  been 
curiously  neglected  in  fiction,  and  the  picturesque  figures  of  the 
time,  sea-rangers  and  Quakers,  redcoats  and  Continental  soldiers, 
and  even  Washington  himself,  have  to  do  with  the  development  of 
a  strange  and  thrilling  story  wherein  Betsy  Ross  takes  the  leading 
part.  The  ancient  tavern,  the  home  of  the  Philadelphia  merchant, 
the  flag-maker's  little  shop,  and  the  quaint  and  charming  life  of  the 
time,  are  shown  as  the  background  of  a  series  of  swift  incidents 
which  hold  the  reader's  attention.  "Betsy  Ross"  is  a  book  to 
be  read,  and  the  reader  will  recommend  it. 

The  Betsy  Ross  of  history  was  a  singularly  bright  and  win 
some  woman,  and  intensely  patriotic.  Mr.  Hotchjuss's  story  has 
been  confined  to  the  romantic  days  of  her  early  womanhood. 
The  house  in  which  the  flag  was  completed,  and  in  and  about 
which  most  of  the  action  of  the  novel  takes  place,  still  stands  en 
Arch  Street,  Philadelphia,  and  the  attempt  to  preserve  it  as  one 
of  the  shrines  connected  with  American  history  is  meeting  with 
deserved  success.  Mrs.  Ross  (afterward  Mrs.  Claypoole)  died 
at  the  great  age  of  ninety-three,  and  her  remains  lie  in  Mount 
Moriah  Cemetery. 

D.     APPLETON     AND     COMPANY,     NEW     YORK. 


BOOKS  BY  J*  A,  ALTSHELER* 

The  Wilderness  Road* 

A  Romance  of  St.  Clair's  Defeat  and  Wayne's  Victory.  I  2mo. 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

"That  Mr.  Altsheler  has  caught  the  wild,  free  spirit  of  the  life  vhich  he 
depicts  is  evident  on  every  page,  and  nowhere  more  so  than  in  one  of  his 
final  chapters,  'The  Meeting  of  the  Chiefs,'  where  he  vitalizes  the  life-and- 
death  struggle  of  a  friendly  and  a  hostile  Indian." — New  York  Mail  and 
Express. 

In  Grclingf  Camps* 

A  Romance  of  the  American  Civil  War.  i  2mo.  Cloth,  $  i .  50. 
"  We  do  not  often  get  as  fine  a  picture  as  that  which  Mr.  Altsheler  paints. 
The  tal  2  covers  the  period  from  the  election  and  the  inauguration  of  Lincoln 
until  the  surrender  of  Lee  and  the  entrance  of  the  Northern  army  into  Rich 
mond.  .  .  .  Every  good  American  who  enjoys  the  smell  of  powder  and  the 
crack  of  the  rifle  will  appreciate  the  chapters  that  describe  the  battle  of 
Gettysburg." — The  Bookman. 

A  Herald  of  the  West* 

An  American  Story  of  1811—1815.      121110.      Cloth,  $1.50. 

' '  A  portion  of  our  history  that  has  not  before  been  successfully  embodied 
in  fiction.  .  .  .  Extremely  well  written,  condensed,  vivid,  picturesque,  and 
there  is  continual  action.  ...  A  rattling  good  story,  and  unrivaled  in  fiction 
for  its  presentation  of  the  American  feeling  toward  England  during  our 
second  conflict." — Boston  Herald. 

A  Soldier  of  Manhattan. 

And  his  Adventures  at  Ticonderoga  and  Quebec.  I  zmo.  Cloth, 
$1.00;  paper,  50  cents. 

"  Graphic  and  intensely  interesting.  .  .  .  The  book  may  be  warmly  com 
mended  as  a  good  specimen  of  the  fiction  that  makes  history  real  and  living." 
— San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"  The  story  is  told  in  such  a  simple,  direct  way  that  it  holds  the  reader's 
interest  to  the  end,  and  gives  a  most  accurate  picture  of  the  times." — Boston 
Transcript. 

The  Sun  of  Saratoga* 

A  Romance  of  Burgoyne's  Surrender.  I  zmo.  Cloth,  $1.00; 
paper,  50  cents. 

"  Taken  altogether,  '  The  Sun  of  Saratoga'  is  the  best  historical  novel  of 
American  origin  that  has  been  written  for  years,  if  not,  indeed,  in  a  fresh, 
simple,  unpretending,  unlabored,  manly  way,  that  we  have  ever  read." — New 
York  Mail  and  Express. 

D.    APPLETON     AND     COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


A  STORY  OF  THE  PEOPLE'S  POWER. 

The  Eternal  City. 

By  HALL  CAINE,  author  of  "The  Christian,"  "The 
Manxman,"  "  The  Bondman,"  "  The  Deemster," 
etc.  I2mo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

"A  vivid  and  moving  picture  of  Roman  life." — Pittsburg 
Commercial  Gazette. 

"Bound  to  exercise  a  great  influence  in  the  controversies  now 
exciting  the  world." — St.  Louis  Post-Dispatch. 

"  One  of  the  very  strongest  productions  in  fiction  that  the 
present  age  has  been  privileged  to  enjoy." — Philadelphia  Item. 

"The  most  ambitious  work  the  author  has  so  far  undertaken, 
and  may  be  regarded  his  greatest  success." — Cleveland  Plain- 
Dealer. 

"A  powerful  novel,  inspired  by  a  lofty  conception,  and 
carried  out  with  unusual  force.  It  is  the  greatest  thing  that  Hall 
Caine  has  ever  attempted." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  The  praise  of  the  great  men  of  letters — Ruskin,  Collins, 
Blackmore,  Gladstone — who  hailed  with  delight  the  advent  of 
'  The  Deemster  '  and  *  The  Bondman,'  should  now  be  readjusted 
to  meet  present  exigencies,  for  Mr.  Hall  Caine  has  done  for  the 
myriads  of  his  English  readers  what  Walpole  did  for  a  smaller  yet 
not  less  discriminating  public.  .  .  .  The  true  Italian  spirit  of 
Onuphrio  Muralto  we  find  revived  after  many  years  in  '  The 
Eternal  City.'  " — New  York  Times  Saturday  Re-view. 

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A  PICTURESQUE  BOOK  OF  THE  SEA. 

A  Sailor's  Log. 

Recollections  of  Forty  Tears  of  Naval  Life.  By  Rear- 
Admiral  ROBLEY  D.  EVANS,  U.S.  N.  Illustrated. 
Large  i2mo.  Cloth,  $2.00. 

"It  is  essentially  a  book  for  men,  young  and  old  ;  and  the 
man  who  does  not  enjoy  it  is  lacking  in  healthy  red  blood." — 
Chicago  Bookseller. 

"A  profoundly  interesting  book.  There  is  not  a  line  of  bra 
vado  in  its  chapters,  nor  a  carping  criticism.  It  is  a  book  which 
will  increase  the  esteem  and  high  honor  which  the  American  feels 
and  willingly  awards  our  naval  heroes." — Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

"It  would  be  difficult  to  find  an  autobiography  possessing 
more  interest  than  this  narrative  of  forty  years  of  active  naval  serv 
ice.  It  equals  the  most  fascinating  novel  for  interest ;  it  contains 
a  great  deal  of  material  that  has  a  distinct  historical  value.  .  .  . 
Altogether  it  is  a  most  delightful  book." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

fi  His  is  a  picturesque  personality,  and  he  stands  the  supreme 
test  by  being  as  popular  with  his  officers  and  men  as  he  is  with 
the  public  generally.  His  life  has  been  one  of  action  and  adven 
ture  since  he  was  a  boy,  and  the  record  of  it  which  he  has  pre 
pared  in  his  book  'A  Sailor's  Log'  has  not  a  dull  line  in  it  from 
cover  to  cover.  It  is  all  action,  action,  and  again  action  from  the 
first  page  to  the  last,  and  makes  one  want  to  go  and  '  do  things  ' 
himself.  Any  boy  between  fifteen  and  nineteen  who  reads  this 
book  and  does  nor  want  to  go  to  sea  must  be  a  sluggish  youth. 
.  .  .  The  book  is  really  an  interesting  record  of  an  interesting 
man." — New  York  Press. 

D.      APPLETON     AND     COMPANY,     NEW     YORK. 


"THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  THE  BOERS." 
BY  HOWARD    C.  HILLEGAS. 

Oom  Paul's  People. 

With  Illustrations.      I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"He  [the  author]  has  written  a  plain,  straightforward  nar 
rative  of  what  he  himself  saw  and  learned  during  his  recent  visit 
to  South  Africa.  .  .  .  The  only  criticism  of  it  will  be  that 
which  Sam  Weller  passed  on  his  own  love  letter,  that  the  reader 
'will  wish  there  was  more  of  it' — which  is  the  great  art  of 
letter- writing  and  of  book- writing. " — New  York  World. 

"The  first  systematic  and  categorical  exposition  of  the 
merits  of  the  whole  case  and  its  origins  written  by  a  disinterested 
observer.  ...  An  informing  book,  and  a  well-written  one." — 
New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

"  Gives  precisely  the  information  necessary  to  those  who 
desire  to  follow  intelligently  the  progress  of  events  at  the  present 
time." — New  York  Commercial  Advertiser. 

The  Boers  in  War. 

The  True  Story  of  the  Burghers  in  the  Field. 
Elaborately  illustrated  with  Photographs  by  the 
Author  and  Others.  Uniform  with  "  Oom  Paul's 
People."  i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

"A  book  of  even  wider  interest  than  '  Oom  Paul's  People.' 
A  most  novel  and  curious  account  of  a  military  form  that  has 
never  been  duplicated  in  modern  times  ;  exceptionally  interesting. 
Mr.  Hillegas  has  given  us  beyond  question  the  best  account  yet 
published." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

D.     APPLETON      AND      COMPANY,      NEW     YORK. 


A   TIMELY   BOOK. 


China. 

Travels  and  Investigations  in  the  "Middle  Kingdom  " — A  Study 
of  its  Civilization  and  Possibilities.  Together  with  an  Account 
of  the  Boxer  War,  the  Relief  of  the  Legations,  and  the  Re-estab 
lishment  of  Peace.  By  JAMES  HARRISON  WILSON,  A.  M.,  LL.  D., 
late  Major- General  United  States  Volunteers,  and  Brevet  Major- 
General  United  States  Army.  Third  edition,  revised  throughout, 
enlarged,  and  reset,  izmo.  Cloth,  $1.75. 

General  Wilson's  second  visit  to  China  and  his  recent  active 
service  in  that  country  have  afforded  exceptional  chances  for  a 
knowledge  of  present  conditions  and  the  possibilities  of  the  future. 
In  the  light  of  the  information  thus  obtained  at  first  hand  in  the 
country  itself,  General  Wilson  is  enabled  to  write  with  a  peculiar 
authoritativeness  in  this  edition,  which  brings  his  study  of  China 
down  to  the  present  day.  In  addition  to  the  new  chapters  which 
have  been  added  explaining  the  origin  and  development  of  the 
Boxer  insurrection,  the  relief  of  the  legations,  and  the  outlook  for 
the  future,  the  author  has  revised  his  book  throughout,  and  has 
added  much  valuable  matter  in  the  course  of  his  narrative.  This 
book,  which  is  therefore  in  many  respects  new,  puts  the  reader 
in  possession  of  a  broad  and  comprehensive  knowledge  of  Chinese 
affairs,  and  this  includes  the  latest  phases  of  the  subject.  The 
practical  and  discriminating  character  of  the  author's  study  of 
China  will  be  appreciated  more  than  ever  at  this  time  when  prac 
tical  questions  relating  to  Chinese  administration,  commerce,  and 
other  matters  of  the  first  importance,  are  engaging  so  much 
attention.  This  new  edition  is  indispensable  for  any  one  who 
wishes  a  compact,  authoritative  presentation  of  the  China  of 
to-day. 

D.     APPLETON     AND     COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


YOUNG  HEROES  OF  OUR  NAVY, 

Uniform  Edition.    Each,  J2mo,  cloth,  $1.00. 

Reuben  James. 

A  Hero  of  the  Forecastle.      By  CYRUS  TOWNSEND  BRADY,  author 
of  "  Paul  Jones."      Illustrated  by  George  Gibbs  and  others. 

"  Nothing  could  be  more  absorbing  than  Mr.  Brady's  graphic  tale,  which 
forms  an  eloquent  tribute  to  the  heroes  of  the  forecastle,  the  predecessors  of  the 
men  who  did  such  gallant  work  at  Manila  and  Santiago." — Cleveland  World. 

The  Hero  of  Manila. 

Dewey  on  the  Mississippi  and  the  Pacific.     By  ROSSITER  JOHNSON. 
Illustrated  by  B.  West  Clinedinst  and  others. 

"There  is  nothing  sensational  or  bombastic  in  the  story  from  beginning  to 
end.  It  is,  however,  picturesque  and  vivid,  as  well  as  dignified,  modest,  and 
decidedly  interesting." — Boston  Budget. 

The   Hero  Of  Erie   (Commodore  Perry). 
By  JAMES   BARNES,  author  of  "  Midshipman  Farragut,"  "  Com 
modore  Bainbridge,"  etc.    With  10  full-page  Illustrations. 

Commodore  Bainbridge. 

From  the  Gunroom    to  the  Quarter-deck.      By  JAMES   BARNES. 
Illustrated  by  George  Gibbs  and  others. 

Midshipman  Farragut. 

By  JAMES  BARNES.      Illustrated  by  Carlton  F.  Chapman. 

Decatur  and  Somers. 

By  MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEA  WELL.     With  6  full-page  Illustrations  by 
J.  O.  Davidson  and  others. 

Paul  Jones. 

By  MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEAWELL.      With  8  full-page  Illustrations. 

Midshipman  Paulding. 

A  True  Story  of  the  War  of  1 8 1  2.      By   MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEA- 
WELL.    With  6  full-page  Illustrations. 

Little  Jarvis. 

The  Story  of  the  Heroic  Midshipman  of  the  Frigate  Constellation. 
By  MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEAWELL.     With  6  full-page  Illustrations. 

D.     APPLETON     AND    COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


GREAT  COMMANDERS. 

Edited  by  General  JAMES  GRANT  WILSON. 

This  series  forms  one  of  the  most  notable  collections  of  books  that  has 
been  published  for  many  years.  The  success  it  has  met  with  since  the  first 
volume  was  issued,  and  the  widespread  attention  it  has  attracted,  indicate 
that  it  has  satisfactorily  fulfilled  its  purpose,  viz.,  to  provide  in  a  popular 
form  and  moderate  compass  the  records  of  the  lives  of  men  who  have  been 
conspicuously  eminent  in  the  great  conflicts  that  established  American  in 
dependence  and  maintained  our  national  integrity  and  unity.  Each  biog 
raphy  has  been  written  by  an  author  especially  well  qualified  for  the  task, 
and  the  result  is  not  only  a  series  of  fascinating  stories  of  the  lives  and  deeds 
of  great  men,  but  a  rich  mine  of  valuable  information  for  the  student  of 
American  history  and  biography. 

Each,  J2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  $f  .50  net 
Postage,  11  cents  additional. 

NOW  READY. 
Admiral  Farragut    -    -    -    -      By  Captain  A.  T.  MAHAN,  U.  S.  N. 

General  Taylor By  General  O.  O.  HOWARD,  U.  S.  A. 

General  Jackson By  JAMES  PARTON. 

General  Greene By  General  FRANCIS  V.  GREENE. 

General  J.  E.  Johnston     -     -  By  ROBERT  M.  HUGHES,  of  Virginia. 

General  Thomas By  HENRY  COPPEE,  LL.  D. 

General  Scott By  General  MARCUS  J.  WRIGHT. 

General  Washington     -    -    -      By  General  BRADLEY  T.  JOHNSON. 

General  Lee By  General  FITZHUGH  LEE. 

General  Hancock By  General  FRANCIS  A.  WALKER. 

General  Sheridan By  General  HENRY  E.  DAVIES. 

General  Grant By  General  JAMES  GRANT  WILSON. 

General  Sherman By  General  MANNING  F.  FORCE. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones   -    -    -    -    By  CYRUS  TOWNSEND  BRADY. 

General  Meade By  ISAAC  R.  PENNYPACKER. 

General  McClellan By  General  PETER  S.  MICHIE. 

IN   PREPARATION. 

Admiral  Porter By  JAMES  R.  SOLEY,  late  Ass't  Sec'y  U.  S.  Navy. 

General  Forrest By  Captain  J.  HARVEY  MATHES. 

D.      APPLETON     AND     COMPANY,     NEW     YORK. 


DR.  EGGLESTON'S  GREAT  HISTORY. 


The  Transit  of  Civilization 

From  England  to  America  in  the  Seventeenth  Century.  By 
EDWARD  EGGLESTON.  Uniform  with  "The  Beginners  of  a 
Nation."  Small  8vo,  gilt  top,  uncut,  cloth,  $1.50. 

All  who  have  read  "  The  Beginners  of  a  Nation  "  will  wel 
come  this  new  volume  by  Mr.  Eggleston.  Though  it  is  an 
independent  work,  it  is  also  the  second  in  the  series  upon  which 
the  author  has  long  been  engaged.  Its  aim  is  to  reveal  to  the  reader 
the  mind  of  the  seventeenth  century  man — to  show  where  he 
stood  in  the  intellectual  development  of  the  race  ;  what  he  knew 
of  science,  and  how  his  character  was  determined  by  his  limi 
tations  ;  his  bondage  to  tradition,  his  credulity,  and  the  unreality 
of  the  world  in  which  he  lived,  with  its  witches,  its  omnipresent 
devil,  its  signaturism  in  plants  and  animals  to  guide  medical 
practice,  its  belief  in  the  virtue  of  sympathetic  powder,  weapon 
ointment,  and  the  fabulous  bezoar  stone.  The  standards  of  con 
duct  of  the  age  are  shown,  the  educational  aims  and  the  evolu 
tion  of  a  school  system  unthought  of  then. 

The  scope  of  the  work  may  best  be  explained  by  the  titles 
of  the  chapters,  which  are  : 

1.  Medical  Outfit  of  the  Early  Colonists. 

2.  Medical  Notions  at  the  Period  of  Settlement. 

3.  Folk  Speech  and  Mother  English. 

4.  Weights  and  Measures  of  Conduct. 

5.  The  Tradition  of  Education. 

6.  Landholding  in  the  Early  Colonies. 

This  is  no  ordinary  historical  work,  but  a  startling  view  of 
life  before  science.  No  such  account  has  ever  been  given  of  the 
colonists,  and  no  such  view  exists  of  England  in  the  seventeenth 
century.  It  may  be  read  in  entire  independence  of  any  other 
volume  of  the  series. 

D.     APPLETON     AND    COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


BOOKS  BY  ANTHONY  HOPE. 
The  King's  Mirror. 

Illustrated.      I  zmo.      Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  Mr.  Hope  has  never  given  more  sustained  proof  of  his  cleverness  than  in 
'  Jhe  King's  Mirror.'  In  elegance,  delicacy,  and  tact  it  ranks  with  the  best  of 
his  previous  novels,  while  in  the  wide  range  of  its  portraiture  and  the  subtlety 
of  its  analysis  it  surpasses  all  his  earlier  ventures." — London  Spectator. 

ft  Mr.  Anthony  Hope  is  at  his  best  in  this  new  novel.  He  returns  in  some 
measure  to  the  color  and  atmosphere  of  'The  Prisoner  of  Zenda.'  ...  A 
strong  book,  charged  with  close  analysis  and  exquisite  ironv ;  a  book  full  of 
pathos  and  moral  fiber — in  short,  a  book  to  be  read." — London  Chronicle. 

"  A  story  of  absorbing  interest  and  one  that  will  add  greatly  to  the  author's 
reputation.  .  .  .  Told  with  all  the  brilliancy  and  charm  which  we  have  come 
to  associate  with  Mr.  Anthony  Hope's  work." — London  Literary  World. 

The  Chronicles  of  Count  Antonio. 

With  Photogravure  Frontispiece  by  S.  W.  Van  Schaick.     1 2mo. 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  No  adventures  were  ever  better  worth  recounting  than  are  those  of  Antonio 
of  Monte  Velluto,  a  very  Bayard  among  outlaws.  .  .  .  To  all  those  whose 
pulses  still  stir  at  the  recital  of  deeds  of  high  courage,  we  may  recommend  this 
book.  .  .  .  The  chronicle  conveys  the  emotion  of  heroic  adventure,  and  is 
picturesquely  written." — London  Daily  News. 

fi  It  has  literary  merits  all  its  own,  of  a  deliberate  and  rather  deep  order.  .  .  . 
In  point  of  execution  '  The  Chronicles  of  Count  Antonio '  is  the  best  work 
that  Mr.  Hope  has  yet  done.  The  design  is  clearer,  the  workmanship  more 
elaborate,  the  style  more  colored." — Westminster  Gazette. 

The  God  in  the  Car. 

New  edition,  uniform  with  "  The  Chronicles  of  Count  Antonio." 
izmo.      Cloth,  $1.25. 

"'The  God  in  the  Car'  is  just  as  clever,  just  as  distinguished  in  style, 
just  as  full  of  wit,  and  of  what  nowadays  some  persons  like  better  than  wit — . 
allusiveness — as  any  of  his  stories.  It  is  saturated  with  the  modern  atmos 
phere  ;  is  not  only  a  very  clever  but  a  very  strong  story ;  in  some  respects,  we 
think,  the  strongest  Mr.  Hope  has  yet  written." — London  Speaker. 

"  A  very  remarkable  book,  deserving  of  critical  analysis  impossible  within 
our  limit;  brilliant,  but  not  superficial;  well  considered,  but  not  elaborated; 
constructed  with  the  proverbial  art  that  conceals,  but  yet  allows  itself  to  be 
enjoyed  by  readers  to  whom  fine  literary  method  is  a  keen  pleasure." — London 
World. 

D.  APPLETON  AND   COMPANY,  NEW   YORK. 


HAMLIN    GARLAND'S    BOOKS. 

UNIFORM    EDITION. 

Each,  J2mo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

Wayside  Courtships. 

"  A  faithful  and  an  entertaining  portrayal  of  village  and  rural  life  in  the  West.  .  .  . 
No  one  can  read  this  collection  of  short  stories  without  feeling  that  he  is  master  of  the 
subject." — Chicago  Journal. 

Jason  Edwards. 

An  Average  Man. 

'•  The  average  man  in  the  industrial  ranks  is  presented  in  this  story  in  as  lifelike  a 
manner  as  Mr.  Bret  Harte  presented  the  men  in  the  California  mining  camps  thirty 
years  ago.  ...  A  story  which  will  be  read  with  absorbing  interest  by  hundreds  of 
workingmen." — Boston  Herald. 

A  Member  of  the  Third  House. 

A  Story  of  Political  Warfare. 

"The  work  is.  in  brief,  a  keen  and  searching  study  of  lobbies  and  lobbyists.  At 
least  it  is  the  lobbies  that  furnish  its  motive.  For  the  rest,  the  story  is  narrated  with 
much  power,  and  the  characters  of  Brennan  the  smart  wire-puller,  the  millionaire  Davis, 
the  reformer  Ttittle,  and  Evelyn  Ward  are  skillfully  individualized.  .  .  .  Mr.  Garland's 
people  have  this  peculiar  characteristic,  that  they  have  not  had  a  literary  world  made 
for  them  to  live  in  They  seem  to  move  and  act  in  the  cold  gray  light  of  reality,  and 
in  that  trying  light  they  are  evidently  human." — Chicago  Record. 

A  Spoil  of  Office. 

A  Story  of  the  Modern  West. 

"  It  awakens  in  the  mind  a  tremendous  admiration  for  an  artist  who  could  so  find 
his  way  through  the  mists  of  familiarity  to  an  artistic  haven  ...  In  reading  '  A  Spoil 
of  Office '  one  feels  a  continuation  of  interest  extending  from  the  fictional  into  the  actual, 
with  no  break  or  divergence  And  it  seems  to  be  only  a  question  of  waiting  a  day  or 
two  ere  one  will  run  up  against  the  characters  in  real  life." 


The  Eagle's  Heart. 

A  Story  of  the  West.     I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  A  story  told  with  all  the  fidelity  of  observation,  the  sincerity  and  the  insight  which 
mark  his  work  at  its  best  The  clear,  open  atmosphere  of  the  farther  West  is  in  the 
book."— Chicago  Record. 

"  Fresh  and  absorbing  in  its  interest.  A  novel  of  red  blood  and  vigorous  life." — 
Detroit  Free  Press. 

A  Little  Norsk; 

Or,  OF  Pap's  Flaxen.     i6mo.     Boards,  50  cents. 

"True  feeling,  the  modesty  of  Nature,  and  the  sure  touch  of  art  are  the  marks  of 
this  pure  and  graphic  story,  which  has  added  a  bright  leaf  to  the  author's  laurels.  — 
Chicago  Tribune. 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK. 


THREE   IMPORTANT   BOOKS, 


Recollections  of  the  Civil  War. 
By  CHARLES  A.  DANA.    With  Portrait  and  Index.    Large 
i2mo.     Gilt  top,  uncut,  $2.00. 

"The  book  will  rank  among  the  trustworthy  sources  of  knowledge  of  the 
civil  war." — Netv  York  Evening  Post. 

"Mr.  Dana's  official  position  as  Assistant  Secretary  of  War  while  the  re 
bellion  was  in  progress  gave  him  exceptional  opportunities  of  observation  which 
he  was  keen  to  take  advantage  of,  while  his  rare  gift  of  terse  and  vivid  expres 
sion  enabled  him  to  record  what  he  saw  in  a  series  of  pen  pictures  that  are  little 
less  than  instantaneous  photographs.  The  feature  par  excellence  of  these 
reminiscences  is  their  interesting  character.  .  .  .  He  tells  you  briefly  but 
graphically  what  he  saw,  heard,  or  did  himself.  One  gains  a  very  real  and 
personal  knowledge  of  the  war  from  these  'Recollections.'  " — Chicago  Times- 
Herald. 

Cannon  and  Camera. 

Sea  and  Land  Battles  of  the  Spanish-American  War  in 
Cuba,  Camp  Life,  and  the  Return  of  the  Soldiers.  De 
scribed  and  illustrated  by  J.  C.  HEMMENT,  War  Artist  at 
the  Front.  With  over  one  hundred  full-page  pictures 
taken  by  the  Author,  and  an  Index.  Large  12  mo.  Cloth, 
$2.00. 

"  Accurate  as  well  as  picturesque.  .  .  .  Mr.  Hemment  has  done  his  work 
well.  In  point  of  faithful  realism  there  has  thus  far  been  nothing  better  in  the 
whole  war  literature." — Boston  Journal. 

Puerto  Rico  and  its  Resources. 

A  book  for  Travelers,  Investors,  and  others,  containing 
Full  Accounts  of  Natural  Features  and  Resources,  Prod 
ucts,  People,  Opportunities  for  Business,  etc.  By  FRED 
ERICK  A.  OBER,  author  of  "Camps  in  the  Caribbees," 
"Crusoe's  Island,"  etc.  With  Map  and  Illustrations. 
i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  You  have  brought  together  in  a  small  space  an  immense  amount  of  most 
valuable  information,  which  it  is  very  important  to  have  within  the  reach  of  the 
American  people  at  this  time." — Hon.  HENRY  CABOT  LODGE. 

D.  APPLETON  AND   COMPANY,  NEW  YORK. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-32m-8,'57(.C8680s4)444 

"There  is  not  a  dull  page  in  the  book." — Buffalo  Commercial. 
"The  story  presents  a  fresh  and  thrilling  chapter  of  American  history." — 
Cleveland  World. 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 




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